#and nothing can quite match the feeling of coming down from a busy dinner service

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[crownandwriter]

Genshin Most to Least Likely to...Be Romantic

Had some trouble with the ladies on this one.... But I got to write bits for Kazuha and Venti and that’s what matters

Diluc - He’s a true man of romance. He does his best to be a gentleman--his disillusion at least didn’t spoil that. While he’s not always able to dedicate the time he’d like to spoiling you, you can expect various reminders of his feelings. Bouquets of flowers left for you to find, candlelit dinners, slow dances in moonlit windows, you get it.

Venti - Honestly, he doesn’t even try that hard. It just so happens that a lot of things he enjoys doing for you are classic courting rituals. Singing for you--especially songs he’s written FOR you--sharing a glass of wine at sunset, and tucking flowers in your hair are all affections he’d initiate. His playful words don’t always match the action, but it’s sweet all the same.

Kazuha - I might be bias with this one, but...c’mon. He’s a poetic soul who finds beauty in most things, and he shares those rose-colored thoughts with you. Sometimes through haiku, sometimes through simple spontaneous praise. He’s a less conventional romantic, but a preserved maple leaf is just as beautiful as a rose, no?

Xingqiu - It’s a little hit or miss with this one. He takes a lot of inspiration from his literature, but his tastes can be a little...unorthodox. He’s as likely to send you a grand bouquet of flowers and exotic fruits as he is to try and teach you sword-fighting techniques on a sunset beach. But maybe that’s your thing too?

Albedo - It’s just his demeanor, honestly. He’s a gentleman without trying, always polite and patient. That said, he doesn’t usually spare the time for proper romance. More often than not, Klee or Sucrose will drop off love letters from him when they come down from Dragonspine. But the rarity of his requests for you to “grace him with your presence” really preserves that heart-fluttering feeling, doesn’t it?

Zhongli - Another one who doesn’t particularly try. He just...enjoys sharing things with you? Words, things, they’re all giftable and shall be gifted. Even if he’s busy with work, you’ll often find little things left for you. A wild glaze lilly, a lustrous chunk of jade you could fashion into jewelry, little things he’s found and wanted to share with you. When he’s with you, good luck getting him to stop singing his feelings and praises. He might too honest for shy hearts.

Kaeya - He’s more of a seducer than a woo-er, but he certainly has his moments. I picture him preferring smaller, less flashy acts that someone looking in might view as inadequate. Things like picking up your favorite dessert on the way home, having the coffee brewed before you wake up, and carefully maneuvering your hugs so either of you can hear the other’s heartbeat.

Noelle -  She’s read all the textbooks, so her ideas are usually on the right track. The execution...sometimes could be better. (She’s just a tad dense, so the mood isn’t always right.) But since acts of service is her love language you’ll be treated with her many talents quite often. She’s an excellent cook, if nothing else.

Bennett - He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body! That’s not to say he doesn’t try to make you feel special--Bennett just hasn’t had much exposure to the classic sweep-you-off-your-feet moves. (He was raised by a bunch of tough adventurer dudes.) He kinda just treats you like he does his sparse few other friends.

Chongyun - He’s got no clue what he’s doing. At all. He asked Xingqiu for advice and the result went about as well as you can expect. Still, the extreme reaction to his embarrassment is at least as cute as it is troublesome.

[nari-nim]

hongjoong as your boyfriend

nari note: ah yes, my bias wrecker :’) got requests for mingi and jongho, so they’re coming soon...but who else after them for this series? gif creds go to @hongjooong

Listen, his time is so precious so when he’s spending it with you? You’re precious. He doesn’t bother wasting his time with people who do not add value to his life, so when he’s paying extra attention to you and offering to buy you coffee on the way to work? Someone likes youuuu ;)

Likes to be friends first before dating

You definitely catch him staring at you a lot

He just thinks you’re so beautiful doing the most mundane tasks :((

Will make sure the relationship will work out before asking you out

Or ask him out and he’ll move mountains to make it work

Oh god he takes intimacy and closeness so seriously, so he will be careful about skinship when y’all first date

But he loves the feeling of you in his arms

Or when you back hug him at work

Speaking of work, absolutely the type to produce and sing love songs for you

Like a whole fucking album

But he won’t publish all of the songs for the public, some are simply just for your ears 

Not in the way where all the lyrics are all R-rated, although he will make some of those songs for sure

But like very much likes to pour his heart out into the lyrics and beats, so those songs especially are just for you

He’s so loyal. Will work anything and everything out. 

Love language is quality time (receiving) and acts of service (giving). This combination leads to a lot of romantic and sensual nights in! Think: making dinner together, eating candle lit dinner, warm baths, stuff that leads to more (expanded on later ;)), all those good cliches.

If it’s in the daytime, scenic drives while blasting music, taking photos on film cameras, chilling by the ocean, all of this fits so well with Hongjoong. 

Date where he teaches you how to reform clothes and you end up creating a matching set together. Couple outfit. Couple goals.

Also nap dates!! 

Cuddle him while he gets this well deserved and much needed rest! 

Remembers literally everything you tell him

Very attentive listener, most likely won’t accidentally fall asleep

This means he gives really thoughtful and sentimental gifts, remembers all the important dates, and absolutely will remember that random person in college that hit on you from one singular conversation about them

all or nothing. Just super devoted and loyal.

Will want to help you learn, grow, and pursue your goals. Not exactly a hype man, but will help you slowly and steadily in the background

For example, uses his connections to help point you to the right direction for this risky career choice but won’t take credit for it unless you press him about it

Hmm.. the type to mentally fixate on a problem or try to solve it on his own because he just wants to see you happy, so make sure you try to coax whatever might bother him out so y’all can face the issues together!

But, he’s extremely good at communicating and conflict resolution

After the first few months, arguments are super rare because y’all worked out the biggest issues by then

And if anything comes up, he is so good at actively listening to you, finding compromises, and voicing his needs in a super understanding way

Ugh someone cuff this mans

Speaking of communication, he’s the type to only talk about his deepest worries or insecurities with the closest loved ones in his life so get ready to see a whole new side of him when dating

Will be so vulnerable and open with you so treat him gently and with kindness!

Deep conversations until the late am

A great ear when it comes to listening to you

Always has great, heartfelt advice

He’s someone you can always lean on! He has your back, always

But also make sure to be there for him because we all know he goes through so much and the strongest people need the strongest support

He’s okay with PDA, but not too much in front of people in KQ

Sticks to hand holding and little else

But he is such a cuddle bug in private! He actually lay on top of you or trap you on his lap, not letting you leave unless it’s an emergency

His hugs feel so safe

When y’all cuddle, you always feel so secure, warm, and loved

Dating him is the equivalent of understanding what a deep sense of belonging feels like

Haha y’all should dare each other to try spicy foods 

Because if you like spice/take it well, watch him look at you in amazement and slight horror

And then proceed to sneak the spicy foods in his dish onto your plate whenever y’all eat out together

Even better, you eat the spicy looking food first as his personal taste tester and after a solemn nod, you just quietly take it off his plate for him/move the dish closer to you. You are his superhero.

Or if you can’t take it well like him, at least you both have fun chugging milk together

A true bonding experience either way

NSFW after this

Switch but with an extremely heavy dom lean

Eager to please. More than anything, likes to make sure you’re both pleasuring each other. 

Loves to hear details of your sexual experience and what you like in bed. Simply as a way of getting to know you more. So y’all could literally be talking about choking on his dick casually over lunch. Seonghwa almost spat his drink out while passing by

He is consent king wbk

When y’all first started dating, there were times he forced you to stop kissing him just so he could pressed his forehead against yours and take some ragged breaths, hands gripping at your shoulders tightly, as he pulled himself together and tried to calm down 

Because intense makeout sessions really turn him on

But once you experimentally rock your hips against his, watch his eyes shoot open and look at you with bated anticipation

The first time y’all get down and dirty he’s literally checking in with you before he does anything

Which is so cute, but you’re literally like “just fuck me” at one point

Once he knows your limits though, likes testing them little by little, but always checking in to see how you are doing

Definitely has hard dom potential, especially after both of you get super comfortable

But he still checks in, whether it be gruffly demand your color or pausing to look at you with a questioning look. Just depends on how fucked out you are.

Always coming up with ways to maximize your pleasure, will give everything you suggest a shot

He appreciates visuals. Likes seeing you in his clothes or in lingerie he bought you

Really into orgasm control

He loves loves loves hearing you whine for him

But also

He’s into breath he’s into breath play he’s into breath play he’s into breath play

Hm shamelessly bringing in astrology: so his scorpio ass can actually be quite freaky. But more than anything, he’s very intense during sex. 

But would fuck you as stress relief after a long day 

That… that gets really intense

You’ve used your safe word against him a few times before on those particular days

Also y’all have needy, desperate sex a lot 

Because he’s so busy and you have your own life so when you get to have your time together, it can be a little animalistic the first few rounds

Then it transitions to like love making…very sweet, slow, and sensual :)

OH he is so romantic on anniversaries! He absolutely loves making it special and will spend the night making you shake from pleasure

But on other days where he’s tired as fuck, this is your chance to take care of him! Not necessarily doming him, but being a service top and cuddling him so well afterwards? He honestly loves it so much more than he lets on

Honestly though, I do see him as someone who will let you dom him if you are both feeling it

Not always, but again, he wants to maximize your pleasure

One time he let you top and you started licking his nipples  #hongtiddies and it felt so good for him, you can tell from the way he starts squirming, rutting his hips up at you, and whimpering for you

Got shy before he hit subspace and you used it to mock him a little

Peg him. He'll take it. Like a mess. 

Cums so hard

Was so red after

Pillow talk hits so different

Y’all are both bathing in that post-sex glow, faces inches apart, him kissing your knuckles tenderly, looking deep into your eyes while you both talk about your future, dreams, and aspirations

Whispers his “I love you”s at this time with such sincerity

You can just see the love in his eyes and gentle smile 

</3

[sushi0989]

Pick Me If You Want To (part 1)

Summary: Set in the early 1950s, you are an aspiring photographer that is currently working at a toy store until you make your big break. During a surge of Christmas shopping, you are first met by Wanda Maximoff, a mother of twin boys and married. She leaves her gloves, which gives you the opportunity to meet her again. She takes fond of you, and you of her, but her messy divorce with her husband, Vision, risks the custody of her twins. Does she continue your blossoming relationship or fight for her kids? Based on the movie Carol

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: none (i think)

Word Count: 4823

A/N: I actually thought of this idea in the middle of the night while lying in bed and I literally jumped out of bed to write it down haha. I have 2 parts written so far and I plan on having 4 parts in total. I’m also not sure if I want to include smut because in the movie they hook up once, but I’ll think about it. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy :)

Christmas was the most hectic time of the year, for shopkeepers especially. You were struggling to stay afloat during the Christmas present buying palooza. The customers kept flowing in searching for the perfect toy for their child or nephew or grandchild, constantly asking what was the best of the best. Not to mention, the annoying Santa hat perched on your head was a little too big for you, so it kept sliding off and obstructing your view. Your shift ended ten minutes from now, you only had to keep at this for ten more minutes, you assured yourself.

That was when a woman walked in: curled chestnut red hair falling just above her shoulders, red lipstick glistening in the store lights, and wore a tan coat over her light blue dress with matching gloves. She looked at the different products quizzically as you tried not to stare. She began to come to your area at the counter, so you pretended you were writing in the sales slip.

"Hello, sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could help me?" the woman asked you, her voice was warm but also had a richness to it you couldn't quite describe. Perhaps like honey.  "Of course, ma'am. How could I be of assistance?" you responded with your customer service voice, perky and obnoxious, two things that you were not.

"I was hoping to get something for my twin boys, but I'm not quite sure what I should get them, you see. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction," she continued, her eyebrows furrowed while addressing you, her green eyes not leaving yours.

Your thoughts about annoying customers disappeared all for this woman. There was just something about her that made you drawn to her, but what was it? "May I suggest a model train? It would be a great gift to share between the two of them," you suggested. The woman felt that she could trust you with anything, you had this energy that she wanted to relish in, but your interaction only lasted for 2 minutes. You gestured to the model train showcase behind the woman and she nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think I would like to order that, thank you, doll," she said to you, your stomach fluttering at the nickname.

"Could I get your name please?" you asked so you could fill out the sale slip, you tried maintaining your professional composure. "Wanda Maximoff," she answered. You asked her to sign the bottom of the page, and she took her gloves off and placed them on the counter beside her to do so, your eyes glanced at her gold wedding band on her ring finger. You stared away to check on other customers as she signed and you noticed an older woman who appeared to be needing help. "If you would excuse me, I need to help another customer. Darcy over here will help you with the purchase," you told Mrs. Maximoff as you made your way to the old woman by the action figures.

She nodded her head and watched you as you turned away. Darcy came over to Mrs. Maximoff and assisted her with the payment, but as Mrs. Maximoff was leaving, she was so focused on you that she had left her gloves sitting on the counter. When you were about to leave for home, you noticed the light blue gloves still lying on the counter, but Wanda was nowhere to be found. 

You went to your boss, "Mr. Stark, it looks like one of our customers has left their gloves," you stated with a ring of fear that he might get angry. He crossed his arms and huffed, "well then go look at the sales slip and contact them." You nodded, "yes sir," and pulled out the sales slip for the day. There was written, 'Wanda Maximoff' along with her address and phone number. You wrote the address down on a separate envelope and placed the gloves inside and mailed it off on your walk home. 

 You got back to your apartment, and much to your disappointment, your boyfriend was there, too. "Hey, baby," he said as you walked into the living room, engulfing you into a hug that you weren't really in the mood for. "Hey, Steve," you said into his chest trying to pull away, the strong scent of cologne invaded your nostrils. He wasn't a terrible person, but you couldn't stand him most of the time by his 'lovey-doveyness'. Your first year with him was great, your love felt pure, but over time it felt bland and repetitive. He, however, was infatuated by you, always wanted to be with you in every waking moment like a puppy. 

"Come to France with me," he whines, but you've already told him dozens of times that you didn't want to. You were in the midst of potentially getting signed on as a photographer for The New York Times thanks to your friend, Bruce, who works there. "I already told you no," you groaned, walking away to put your bag down and ready to shower. "Come on, I have so many things planned for us," he pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it and locked yourself in your room. Little did you know, he wanted to propose to you with a candlelit dinner on the Eiffel Tower.

"Open the door," he knocked aggressively, but you didn't want to deal with him right now, or else you would say things that you wouldn't be able to take back. "I'm tired, I'm going to take a shower and crawl into bed," you groaned through the door. "Why don't I join in," he murmured seductively. "Not today, I'm not feeling it," you replied flatly. Steve sighed and walked off, now relieved, you gathered your showering items and went to the bathroom.

Wanda arrived back at her home late at night, her sons running up to her as she walked through the door of her grand estate in New Jersey. Vision, her husband, gave her an irritated expression as she hugged her children. "Go off to bed, kids, I need to talk to Daddy," she cooed and kissed the tops of their heads and they ran off up the spiral staircase. 

"Took you long enough to get home."

"Well I was running errands," Wanda huffed and went over to the cupboard that contained alcohol and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She walked over to a chair in the living room and sat with her legs crossed eyeing her irritated husband. 

"Errands," Vision chuckled dryly. "It's my turn to sleep in the bedroom, you can stay in the guest room tonight," he seethed while going up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door shut. 

Wanda sighed as she chugged her drink and slumped further into the chair. Once the divorce was finalized she could finally be free from his judgment. She could do whatever. Wanda eventually went upstairs and quietly entered the room of her sleeping boys, giving them each other kisses and tucking them in as they were fast asleep.

In the morning, Wanda received a package with her gloves inside, the return address reading 'Stark's Toy Emporium.' 

Wanda picked up the phone and called the store.

"Hello, this is Stark's Toy Emporium, Tony Stark speaking," a man answered, seeming to be in a rush. "Hello, I just received my gloves I misplaced at your store in the mail, I was wondering if I could thank whoever found them," Wanda replied.

Soon you were being called over by Tony, his eyes rolled in annoyance, as per usual. You quickly grabbed the phone hoping it wasn't Steve, "Hello?"

"Hi! This is Wanda, I just wanted to thank you for sending my gloves," she chimed through the speaker. "Oh it was nothing ma'am," you replied, trying to shake off the feeling you were getting from this woman's voice. "Well, I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch as thanks," she invited, her voice was a bit softer, deeper than before. "No, ma'am it's okay, it wasn't that big of a deal," you answered back. "Oh come on now, it's my treat. I'll see you at 2 pm at Barnes' Bistro," she hung up the phone before you could object.

It was already noon, only two more hours before you had to awkwardly make small talk with a woman you very well are intimidated by for some odd reason. You hung the phone back on its receiver and returned to work, the rush of people continued through till the end of your shift. There was not even a moment of rest before your lunch. You masked your exhaustion as you entered the restaurant, the aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with delicious food circulated the air, but you would take this scent over Steve's cologne any day. 

A waiter noticed you enter and greeted you, "Good afternoon, ma'am, do you have a reservation?" You quickly scanned the restaurant and noticed the top of the chestnut red hair in the back corner. "Um, I believe the name is Maximoff, I see her back there," you pointed in the direction of the redhead. "Ah yes, Mrs. Maximoff, right this way ma'am," he gestured for you to follow him towards the back of the restaurant. It was rather dimly lit, the booths were occupied either by two men in business suits or a man and a woman, all of whom were smoking a cigar or cigarette.

"And here you are," the young waiter said as you stood at the end of the table, Mrs. Maximoff glancing up meeting your eyes. Her fingers also held a smoking cigarette, but you didn't mind since it was the norm, however, you personally didn't smoke. "You made it!" she exclaimed quickly, getting up and kissing both of your cheeks as a greeting. You awkwardly smiled and sat across from her in the booth seating. 

"What drink would you like, ma'am?" the waiter asked. "Oh, uh, water should be fine, thank you," you replied quietly, your nervousness could be detected from miles away, but Mrs. Maximoff seemed to be shocked for some odd reason. "Water? No dear, let me treat you to something nice, could you get her a glass of Chianti?" she requested and the waiter nodded enthusiastically and rushed off. Mrs. Maximoff took one last puff of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray.

"So, I don't think I ever got your name, dear," she began. "Y/n Y/l/n" you answered quickly. "That's a pretty name for a pretty girl," she smiled and picked up her glass of red wine and took a swig. Your face blushed at the compliment, you looked down at your hands fiddling with the spoon on the table to avoid her eyes. The waiter came back with the glass of red wine meant for you and placed it next to your hand. "Thank you, Peter," Mrs. Maximoff said to him. He nodded his head before dashing off again.

"How long have you been working at the toy store?" she questioned. "It'll be one year next month, it's just a side thing," you answered embarrassed to mention your true dream. "Well, what is it you want to do?" she raised an eyebrow. "I uh- I'm a photographer," you stammered. "That's very intriguing, y/n" she complimented, you were flustered by the use of your name.

"Have you had any success in finding a job relating to photography?"

"I just met with a photo editor at the New York Times last weekend, I have to put together a portfolio and send it off to them to be considered for a position," you explained, finally looking up at her and putting your spoon down. "That sounds exciting! You must show me your work!" Mrs. Maximoff exclaimed with genuine excitement. Steve would complement your photography, but it felt half-hearted, maybe it's because he didn't want you to overshadow him someday.

After lunch as the two of you headed out, Mrs. Maximoff and you exchanged a farewell. "Thank you again for the lunch, Mrs. Maximoff," you thanked her in a quick hug. "Oh, it was my pleasure. And please call me Wanda, you're making me feel quite old. How about I give you my number and we can meet again?" she offered and you couldn't help but nod. As much as you weren't keen on continuing this friendship or relationship or whatever was happening, you felt like this woman understood you in a way no one else did.

You decided to go visit Bruce to thank him for getting the meeting with the photo editor. The thought of Wanda's phone number written on a slip of paper in your handbag added pep to your step as you strolled into the office building. You walked up to the front desk saying you were going to visit a friend, "Mr. Banner is on floor 11," she said. The elevator let you off on the floor and you saw Bruce in his office typing away on his typewriter. 

"Y/n! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!" he beamed and got up from his desk to give you a kiss on the cheek. "I figured I should stop by since you're the reason my dreams have a chance of becoming a reality now," you smiled and took a seat across from his desk. "It was no problem, your talent would add so much to the paper. You're also welcome here whenever," Bruce stated leaning back in his armchair. 

"Where are my manners? Let me get something to drink! I've got whiskey, gin-" "I just had a drink actually," you countered declining his offer.

"What's one more drink gonna do? Come on, live a little!" he pressured you and got up to go to the corner of his office to pull out two glasses and a bottle of gin. "Fine, only this once," you caved in. He poured two drinks and handed you one. The gin went smooth, but it still burnt your throat, however, you were able to mask it. 

"How are things with you and Steve?" Bruce inquired with skepticism, which you found a little out of character, but the alcohol toiled with your mind and proceeded to spill all of your thoughts. "He wants me to go to France with him even though I've told him not so many times. I can't deal with him anymore, but I've been with him for so long now that I feel bad to end things," you confessed, making Bruce intrigued. He leaned on his desk directly in front of you.

"Is there someone else you think is causing you to lose interest in him?" Bruce asked in a low tone and leaned towards you a little bit, but still your slightly tipsy self didn't see the red flag. "I mean, I haven't really thought about that," you answered pondering, thoughts of Wanda flashing in your mind, but you were quickly brought back to reality when Bruce's lips were on yours.

You shrieked, forcing him to pull away. You angrily got up, "what the hell, Bruce?!" you scolded him. "I'm sorry! You weren't reacting when I was leaning closer to you so I just went in!" he defended his actions. "God! All men are the fucking same!" you complained and downed your drink before rushing out of his office. Bruce rubbed his forehead realizing the mistake he made, but it was too late to take it back now.

You arrived back in your apartment to emptiness, Steve was nowhere to be found. Thank god, you thought. You stumbled onto your pea-green sofa and laid there in anguish. Nothing seemed to appease you, nothing went your way. As soon as these thoughts rang in your head, your telephone rang as well. You groaned as you begrudgingly made your way to the kitchen where the phone was hung. 

"Hello?" you groaned in a tired and yet apathetic voice which Wanda was a bit surprised to hear. 

"Hi, sweetie, it's Wanda!" 

You held your breath realizing you rudely answered the woman. You cleared your throat and corrected your shoulders before speaking again. "Hi- uh I'm- hi!" you stuttered, grumbling to yourself for this embarrassing encounter. 

"I was calling to invite you over to my house, I would love to have you over," Wanda said, biting her lip hoping that you would say yes. She twirled the cord connecting to the receiver around her finger patiently waiting for your answer.

"Oh, really? I mean, I can. I don't have a car though-"

"I can pick you up!" Wanda interrupted with excitement. "When are you free this week, dear?" 

"I'm free tomorrow," you replied with a smile to contain yourself. "I'll come tomorrow at noon then," Wanda concluded, little did you know just how much she was looking forward to seeing you and your adorable self. She couldn't get enough of you, and neither could you get enough of her.

Steve never came home that night, and you didn't care one bit. He was a nuisance to your life, especially right now since he knew how much this photography opportunity meant to you, but his pestering was going to make you snap and break his heart at any second.

You looked your best self, wearing a navy blue blouse with black trousers. It wasn't that common for women at the time to be wearing such things, it was more progressive, however, all you cared about was comfort. You occasionally would wear dresses, but you preferred pants and a shirt. You could say that it was for Wanda, but it was for yourself. People, particularly women, would examine your modern style as appalling, but not Wanda. You figured why not be comfortable and stylish. 

You made a small breakfast before Wanda arrived. You had a bit of a headache from all of the alcohol you had the day before, but that was barely on your mind. All you could think about was making sure you looked presentable as did your apartment before Wanda came. You just finished drying the last dish when you heard a knock on your door. You dried your hands with the dish towel before scurrying to quickly let Wanda in. 

There she was, standing in a red coat that hugged her figure in all of the right ways. She wore a beige dress underneath, hidden by the boldness of the coat that you couldn't keep your eyes off of. She was also wearing a matching red hat that looked beautiful with her chestnut hair. 

"Ready to go?" she asked, seemingly in a hurry. "Yes, let me get my bag," you turned around and grabbed your bag off of the coffee table, inside holding your wallet and your camera just in case there was an opportunity to shoot. 

You walked with Wanda side by side in a comfortable silence until you reached her car. You sat on the passenger side, which was connected with the driver's seat. 

"Would you like any music?" Wanda inquired as she pulled out of the parking spot on the curb. "I'll listen to whatever you do," you answered. You didn't listen to music all that much, you didn't have the time to nor did you have a radio. 

"I like to drive in silence, the sound of the wind soothes me," Wanda replied. You turned your head and saw how the cool wind tousled Wanda's hair around, but never did it ruin her perfect curls. 

"There's a Christmas tree farm on the way that I wanted to check out if that's okay with you," Wanda imparted quickly glancing at you but focused on the road. "That's fine, I don't mind," you said. Wanda's cheeks feathered a light pink, delighted that you agreed. She soon pulled into the small but crowded Christmas tree market. There was Christmas music playing, kids laughing and sprinting around completely oblivious to the disgruntled shouts by their parents, and the occasional newlywed couple admiring what tree was to be their first one.

"You can stay in the car if you'd like, I'm just going to pay for one and bring it back some other time," Wanda was saying to you standing right out of the passenger window. You didn't even notice her get out of the car let alone walk around to get your attention away from the beautiful scene you were watching. "That's fine, you go ahead," you answered, glancing up at her face. 

Wanda turned around and made her way towards the clerk, the cool winter breeze ruffling her coat and hair. Your attention was now focused on the woman, how her smile stretched from ear to ear, her mannerisms like how she would play with the ring on her finger while speaking to someone, or how she would partially bite her lip while thinking of a response to a question in conversation.

Your hand automatically reached for your bag and pulled out your camera. You stepped out of the car and shot some candid photos of Wanda, capturing her elegance. As Wanda finished up, you took pictures of the rest of the scene you were so enthralled in before Wanda had caught your attention again. Once you were satisfied, you went back into the car and wrote your name onto the foggy window. 

"Dirtying my car I see," Wanda teased, making you tense up. "I'm sorry, I'll wipe it-"

"I'm just kidding, you're so uptight! Let loose! I don't bite," Wanda assured you, but you still held your breath around her. You didn't want her to think badly of you, to set her off in any kind of way even though you barely know this woman. You responded to her with a weak smile to exemplify that you understood her suggestion, you reprimanded your subconscious for looking into her enchanting eyes.

She got into the driver's seat once again, only her left hand gripped the steering wheel while her right hand rested on her lap. After another 20 minutes, you arrived at her home. It was evening by the time you got there, the sunset earlier in the winter, but the area around her room was beautifully lit. It was just as you imagined, a large estate with a grand yard filled with all kinds of bushes and flowers surrounding it. 

"Wow," you gawked in amazement. You both entered and your head swiveled to take in all of the details perfectly situated around her home. Your eyes lingered at a family portrait of her, her twin children, and what appeared to be her husband, a tall man who had a strained smile, forced, no true happiness lying beneath it. There was no one in the home, was what you thought at first until you heard the giggles of children emanating from upstairs.

"Billy! Tommy! What are you doing?" Wanda shouted, her hands on her hips facing to look up the spiral staircase in the direction of the laughter. "We're just playing, Momma!" one of them shouted back from the bedroom. 

Wanda turned back to face you and sighed. "They can be a handful, but I'm just glad they have one another to keep each other entertained." You nodded in understanding, you had younger siblings who were reckless little misfits that you had to take care of, so you knew exactly what it was like. 

You noticed a beautiful grand piano located in a room beside the dining area and your legs automatically took you towards it. You hand caressed the top, you had never seen such a luxurious piano, you've only ever played cheap upright ones. "Can you play?" you asked Wanda, your eyes still admiring the ivory keys. 

"Sadly, I cannot. My husband can, but he hasn't touched it in years," Wanda confessed, a twinge of disappointment in her tone. "Can you?"

"I can, but I'm not the greatest," you chuckled dryly. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that, y/n because now I'm going to need to hear you play for me," Wanda smirked and walked over to you and the piano. "Oh gosh, I'd rather not. My hands probably have lost their ability and my voice-" 

"You sing, too?! Now I must hear you play and sing!" Wanda was elated, she leaned on the piano as your face heated up. You sighed knowing that you were a guest and you brought nothing to give, not even a bottle of wine. "Since I didn't bring you a gift for inviting me to your home, this can be it," you grinned nervously as you slowly sat on the bench and placed your hands on the keys. 

Your fingers automatically played a run, completely captivating Wanda at the effortless ability. You cleared your throat and began to sing.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. Everybody falls in love somehow. Something in your kiss just told me, that sometime is now." You carried on singing, your voice lulling Wanda as she swayed to the song. She crept over and took a seat next to you on the piano bench as you continued playing, trying not to stutter your words when you felt her leg brush yours.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. And though my dreams were overdue, your love made it all worth waiting for someone like you," you slowed the song and the piano still hummed the last note. Wanda placed her hand on your thigh and whispered, "that was absolutely beautiful." You shuddered by the touch and curled your toes. 

"My dad taught me how to play. He would always sing this song to my mother. He loved her so much, I swore that I one day want to love someone the way my dad loved my mom. When he passed, I would play this song for my mother in his place, but then she started to lose her memory and now she stays with my younger sister in New Haven," you explained solemnly. Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, her heart ached for you. She moved her hand from your thigh to your face, cupping your cheek.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I am certain, however, with that talent and song you can win over anyone's heart in under five seconds," she smiled and kissed your forehead. You blushed and looked deeply into her green eyes. You tried to capture this moment into your subconscious. She was no longer in her coat, just her beige dress, a pearl necklace, no gloves, and the same red lipstick. Her mouth was slightly open, she glanced down at your lips and began to close the gap.

The front door of the house abruptly opened and a man wearing a suit hiding underneath a black coat walked inside with a brown briefcase. Wanda quickly dropped her hand from your face and stood up. You turned away from her as well. He took notice of the tension and scowled.

"Wanda. You brought your antics into our home. My home. Under my roof. Already moved on from Monica and now you've brought someone else!" he fumed and aggressively put his briefcase down. "Don't yell in front of her, Vision! We can discuss this privately," Wanda hissed at him. 

"I'm taking the kids to Florida with me for Christmas, right now," he announced as he ran upstairs to their room. "You're what?! You didn't discuss this with me!" Wanda yelled at him running after him. He soon was holding each kid in either arm and pushed Wanda out of his way. "You can't do this!" she began to cry, but he ignored her, anger clouded all around him. There was a car outside with a chauffeur, Vision put them in the backseat. You stood there watching this all unfold, unsure of what to do. 

You rushed over to the front door to see Wanda sobbing while on her knees on the porch as the car drove off. You crouched down and embraced her, she put her arms around you and burrowed her face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Her sobs wracked her entire body, her breathing was uneasy, so you rubbed circles on her back. She eventually calmed down and pulled away.

"I'll drive you to the train station," she said with her broken voice. You nodded your head, she needed time to herself and you were right now a reminder of what she just lost. "I'll call a cab, you should go get some rest," you responded and held her hand in yours. "Are you sure?" Wanda replied. You gave her a smile, which she took as her answer.

The cab arrived within ten minutes, Wanda waved goodbye, no hug or kiss on the cheek. You waved back through the window and the view of her became smaller and smaller as the cab drove off into the night.

[ladycubes0t7]

Required Services

Pairing: Boss!Min Yoongi/Assistant!Fem Reader

Genre: Office/Smut/Boss/Assistant

Rating: Explicit/Mature/NSFW/No Minors

Summary: Are your services required or not? Find out what happens when being an overworked assistant gets you into trouble.

Word Count: 7.27k

Warnings: F/M, Office Sex, Oral (female receiving) , Protected Sex Hint of angst barely, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: This has been cross posted to AO3. Please feel free to comment, feedback is always welcome just try to keep it constructive.

Just one day. One day is all that you ask. One day for your boss to quit pushing all of his work on you. Sure, you get it. He has a lot on his plate. Meetings, interviews, business plans, market reviews, etc. You could go on and on about what he does or does not do.

Let's focus on the latter; that which he does not do. He does not build team morale. He does not care about how much that you do for this company. He sits in his office with that smug look upon his face everytime that you enter. Every hour on the hour, he is buzzing you into his office to assign more duties. Spread the wealth Mr. Boss Man. There are people in this office that are more than qualified to handle these tasks that he'd given you.

Yet, here you were, once again, standing in his office. He sat behind his large black desk, eyeing you with a smirk. He must get off on this. You huffed in clear annoyance while he continued on with his list of "chores". The job was really starting to get to you. Everything about that man, sitting in that high back leather chair, got to you. The way his blonde locks swept to the side and out of his eyes, the way his lips stayed drawn into that smirk, and even the way he breathed.

You furrowed your brow and gnawed at your bottom lip. Seemingly, you were lost in the way his long, slender fingers played with the band of his wristwatch. His fingers, oh how you longed for them to be pumping furiously in and out of you. Wrecking you, disciplining you for all the work that hadn't been completed.

What? Wait. Where did that come from? You flushed all over and tried to blink back your surprise. Mmmm, just look at him. All suited up. You despised the very man in front of you, so how in the hell did thoughts like those even cross your mind? Oh, right, you were overworked and had no time for dick appointments.

"Did you get all that?" Your boss spoke, breaking you out of your daze.

"What was that last part?" You quickly acted like you were taking notes and peeked at him in wait. Your eyes dragged over the entirety of his face and slowly worked their way down. His hands were working to unbutton the bottom of his suit jacket. I bet he really knows how to work a certain button. There it was again that lustful she demon voice in your head. Back away, you sinful beast, your mind pleaded with itself.

Obviously, annoyed, he reiterated, "I've got a formal business dinner to attend tonight and I need a date. You're coming with." There was no asking if you had plans and certainly no care about your opinion on the topic. That demanding tone in his voice had you aching and flustered.

"That'll be all for the moment," he waved you off dismissively. You took a second to look back down at your notes. Your facade set in a scowl as you pondered if you should attempt to decline. I really shouldn't. What if he wants a piece? I'm the perfect person to go to work on him. Those thoughts battled it out. Your inner lustfulness betrayed your sensible side.

"And do wear something….classy," he added, not even looking up.

You fought the need to roll your eyes and replied, "Yes, Mr. Min." I'll be back, the lust demon part of you sashayed to the corners of your fantastical mind and didn't return for the rest of the work day.

*******

You were standing outside the restaurant at precisely 8 o'clock. The strappy, black high heels did nothing to soothe your aching feet from having been at work all day. You held a matching clutch close to the bodice of your black evening dress. The hem of the skirt was a little shorter than you liked but it was just long enough to keep you from looking like a woman of the night. At this point, several minutes passed and you began to wonder would your boss even show up.

A sleek, gray sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk. Your boss exited. His blonde hair was slicked back to show a prominent undercut. He wore a dark gray three piece suit. It was perfectly tailored to his thin frame. That patented smirk of his adorned his lips when he took place beside you. Inwardly, you shrieked like a fangirl but remained your natural level of cantankerous for appearances sake.

"Fashionably late as always, Mr Min," you couldn't hide the disdain in your voice if you wanted to. He perked a brow at you, amused.

"Bitchy as always, Miss Moody. Are you always this standoffish to a date?" He retorted. Nothing ever appeared to get underneath his skin. Attitudes, kindness, hatefulness, everything rolled off of him.

Your boss held out his arm, "Let's not let your attitude kill the evening. Play nice," there was a hint of warning to his tone before he added, "and call me Yoongi for the night. I need you to play the part of date and not employee."

You looped your arm around his and he led you into the restaurant, his head held high. The maitre d didn't even bat an eye as the two of you strolled by. Mr. Min must come here often. You thought. It was hard to feel like you belonged here, let alone on the arm of Min Yoongi. The whole restaurant and its patrons screamed expensive. Hell, your boss probably owns it, even though you've never seen it listed in his accounts.

After having walked through the majority of the restaurant. You reached a set of double doors. Two waiters opened the doors to usher you and your boss through to a separate dining area. This area was more decadent than the last. Lush, violet and gold drapes adorned the walls. There was a rather large, round dining table set up in the center of the room. Seating and place settings for 14.

The other guests went silent. Talk about an awkward entrance. The six men looked shocked as they looked between your boss and you. Has Mr. Min never brought a plus one? The ladies, accompanying the other men, all gawked at you. All it took was a glare shot in their direction by your boss for the ladies to return to light conversation amongst themselves.

"Yoongi-ssi, this is a first. Who is your lovely date?" The man who sat next to an empty seat spoke. He was bespectacled and handsome with chestnut hued hair cut in a mid-fade. He had a dimpled smile crossing his face that could easily have you eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Ah, this is my girlfriend. You can call her Miss Moody for now, Namjoon," your boss answered, moving to take the empty seat next to him. You must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because Mr. Min tugged your hand to pull you in a seat next to him.

Girlfriend? Now I have to act like a girlfriend? He better give me a raise for this. You were trapped in your thoughts and barely even registered your boss's arm slipping around your waist. You almost flinched but caught yourself. You tried your best to act as normal as possible.It couldn't be so bad.

There were no other introductions made past the point of meeting Namjoon. The waiters began to bring out the first course. Luckily, you didn't have to fawn all over your boss, even though your desire demon was begging to take over. He was perfectly content with you sitting silent while the table enjoyed the first course. Yoongi was even overjoyed when you giggled over his cheesy business jokes while waiting for the second course to be served.

He was looking at you now, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher. Your stomach did a little flip when he took your hand and gave it a small squeeze. The gesture was returned with a soft smile that made him grin. To the outward eye, you two appeared to be lost in one another but, internally, you were struggling. It was like this glimpse into Yoongi's softer side was pulling off a mask that he wore to work. You began to find yourself enjoying his company and that was what scared you but thrilled you at the same time. Maybe your boss would be the one to satiate the hunger growing within you.

The rest of dinner went off without a hitch until dessert rolled around. The conversation between the men turned to business. You did your best to ignore the conversation but the numbers game was off. Everything that Namjoon brought up didn't match up with all the paperwork that you gave your boss earlier at work. Your eye even twitched at the low ball offer being discussed.

Yoongi laughed it off with a wave of his hand. "Namjoon, after all these years, you mock me with an offer like this? Come on man. You and I both know it isn't worth it."

Namjoon wiped his mouth with one of the cloth napkins and nodded, "Yeah, I know, but the boss won't let me go any higher. I knew the figure was laughable."

"Your boss sounds like a miser. My company will more than triple his profits. My fees are non-negotiable," Yoongi sat back and draped his arm around the back of your chair. His fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bare shoulder. Goosebumps erupted across your visible flesh. He was obviously doing this as a distraction.

"Oh, come on. Do me a solid on this Yoongi-ssi. I really need this deal to go through. The boss plans on making me partner," Namjoon implored.

"If I do, you have to promise me something in return," Yoongi stared off in contemplation. His fingertips continued to lightly play at your shoulder. The sensation put you on edge. You needed to refocus.

You played with the rim of your wine glass. It was getting harder by the moment to stay silent. One of your legs, restless now, began to bounce. Yoongi put a hand on your thigh under the table. The touch stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes met his, which gave you a warning look. They were pleading with you to mind your own business. That was just it though. It was your business. You worked so hard to have all the paperwork in order for the negotiation that was being brought up at dinner. You expected this to happen at the conference on Monday but here you were, playing Yoongi's girlfriend and not his employee. It was killing you. You shot him a glare and opened your mouth, about to add in your two cents.

"Miss Moody, you're looking a bit flushed, perhaps you should head to the ladies room to freshen up?" Your boss offered but you could tell that it was more of a demand. Your eye twitched with how hard you tried to keep composure at the hatred you had for the nickname he'd given you. He stood to help pull out your chair and offered his hand. You took it, flashing a smile that never reached your eyes.

"Yes, I really should go powder my nose," you tried to hide the scoff but several of the men at the table heard you and let it be known as you walked off.

"You sure have a feisty one on your hands there, Yoongi-ssi," You heard from behind you. Oh, you haven't seen feisty.

Upon reaching the restroom, you debated whether you should just leave. Did Mr. Min realise how hard it would be for you to not say a word about the business end of the deal? He really did just bring you to keep the focus away from his personal life so that the business dinner could be just that, business.

There's still that chance, he could be setting me up to drop them panties. You rolled your eyes after taking in your reflection. Yeah, fat chance. I am but a means to an end.

Huffing in annoyance, you straightened your dress then washed your hands and tried to make sense of it all. Logically speaking, you knew he sent you off so that he could hide that you were an employee. Not just any employee, but the employee. You were the one who put the whole agreement together. Thoughts speeding through your mind did nothing to help quell the anger that slowly began to rise.

Get it together. You're just the date. You tried to reason with yourself, which spoke volumes to your logical side.

"Alright, let's get back to it," you checked yourself in the mirror and headed back to the dining area.

Many of the patrons took no notice as you came through once more. The double doors opened and you made your way back to the table. The business conversation carried on while you were away, but appeared to have been dealt with because Yoongi and Namjoon were standing and shaking hands.         "Pleasure doing business with you Yoongi-ssi. My boss will be pleased to hear that you settled," the younger man smiled, dimples turned up on max.

"Great, have your assistant send my assistant the new documents for me to sign, and we will get it right back to you," your boss grinned for a millisecond before realizing you were back from the ladies room.

You stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched. That snake. First, he used you as arm candy, and then sent you away to not hear how the deal that you pieced together went down. This is it, you thought, this is where the other shoe falls.

"I most certainly will not," you said, icily. The room went silent. All eyes were on you.

"Excuse me?" Namjoon looked at you, quizzically.

Your boss, however, glared at you. The palpable tension grew between the two of you. You wouldn't back down this time. Out of all the times that you were expected to shut up and do your job, this time was not it. This time, you were not on the clock and most definitely not being paid.

Your blood pressuring was rising and your cheeks tinted red. "You see, Mr. Min, you will not be accepting the offer. Not yet, at least." You stepped closer, letting one hand rest on your hip and the other point right at him. "You will wait until I've gone over every word of the new contract before it is accepted. How dare you!?" You were getting louder now and Yoongi flinched when you began to poke at his chest. "You knew how hard I worked on that deal?! It's like you just spat on my face! The audacity!" You threw your hands up, exasperated.

Your boss's surprise turned into a smug look. "You can't have everything your way, Miss Moody. It is my business after all."

A sardonic laugh left your lips, "Oh, indeed it is Mr. Min. All decisions are your own, unless you want to run your business into the dirt. I suggest you take my advice. Leave the numbers game to your assistant." The venom you spat was from years of being overburdened at the office and from the amount of lifeblood that you poured into it.

There was something else there, nagging you in the back of your mind. I can think of some numbers that I can handle. Inches that is. Your logical brain did it's best to shove the thought back into the deepest recesses of your mind. Put that inside a box and put that box into another box. Hide it away because in the moment, you needed to remind your boss that you were one of his hardest working employees. However, the lust demon refused to not be heard. Oh dear God look at those lips, still holding that smugness! The way I'd kiss those lips until they were swollen with the memory of me. It wasn't the time for you to be fantasizing about your boss in that manner. You were mad not hot and horny. Straighten those thoughts out.

The other men at the table couldn't stop looking at the exchange. They were taken aback. Yoongi just stood there, hoping that you were finished, and the women of the group whispered words of scandal amongst each other.

Your boss eyed you in silence for much longer than it seemed. "You know, now that I think about it," Yoongi scratched at his chin as if in thought, "your services are no longer required."

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. Eyes wide with shock and hands shaking, you could only stare at your boss. You tightened your lips and inhaled sharply through your nose. "What?!" Did you hear him correctly?

"You can move your belongings on Monday," Yoongi eyed you one last time before sitting down with a bored expression. There it was, the boss that you knew. The one who let everything wash away from him like he had no cares in the world.

"Yoongi…." The gravity of the situation was becoming too real. He really was going to fire you, just like that? He never looked up. That was it. The conversation was over. No time for rebuttal. Namjoon gave you a sad smile, but the others avoided your eyes. A frown marred your lips. You took up your clutch and held it close while you searched for your phone to order an Uber.

"Goodbye, Mr. Min," you said softly. Everything culminated to this, one of the lowest points of your life. You've never lost it before on your boss. You were utterly embarrassed. Nothing you could say now could change anything.

Outside of the restaurant brought a different kind of cold treatment. The artificial light did nothing to bring up your spirit. Traffic whizzed by and life still carried on like nothing happened. You checked the Uber app to see where your driver was. They were still a good fifteen minutes out. That meant fifteen more minutes of holding it together, to think about how much of a bitch you were, and finally just how good Yoongi looked while firing you.

Wait...he fired me. I shouldn't be thinking about how hot it was with that damn smirk of his. Mmm, but yet somewhere deep in that animalistic brain of your's, you knew that you were just as much turned on as you were angry. In that moment, you hated yourself for the arousal that snuck up on you. You tried to reason with yourself that it was just because things got so heated and you had to face it. Your now former boss was so utterly attractive.

The power he held and money he had played no part in the attraction you felt. It was purely a need to fuck that arrogant smirk off his face. Well, that or punish you like the brat that you were. You long since found yourself loving to be choked up by the work that he loaded you down with and that in itself was punishment.

You were secretly in lust with the thought of him and it caused you frustration on the daily. And even though your driver arrived and began its trek to your quaint apartment, the source of your irritation still clouded your mind. Maybe once you reached home you could just masturbate it out of you and call it a night. Only then would you be able to sleep and worry about finding a new job in the days that followed.

*******

The day you dreaded finally made its arrival. The morning matched your mood. Cold, dark, and rainy. You had a short to-do list for the day: pick up belongings from the office, cash your final paycheck, and drown yourself in cheap wine to wash away the hatred for your boss and your actions.

You dragging yourself out of bed proved not such an easy feat as you had gone on a weekend binder. You washed your face and eyed yourself in your tiny bathroom mirror. You made a poor attempt at applying some makeup to cover the dark circles under your eyes.

How you wished that you could just go in your sweatshirt and yoga pants but alas, you wanted to maintain some decorum. You threw on a black pair of dress slacks with a white billowy blouse. The final touch was to pull your hair back in a loose bun. You sneered in disgust at your image before heading out.

As you stood in front of the tall, dark office building that housed Min Industries, you couldn't help but to be thankful that the lustful thoughts disappeared along with your job. You were so wrapped up in being grateful for that, that you didn't notice the building was quiet all the way up to the top floor. You only noticed once the elevator doors parted and there stood Min Yoongi.

There were no sounds of your coworkers clacking away on keyboards, no phones ringing, and absolutely no one running back and forth between the cubicles. There was only Min Yoongi. He was silent with that same smug smirk.

"I was wondering when you would finally grace me with your presence," he said when you stepped off of the elevator. "We have so much work to complete today with the new deal and whatnot."

This was a trap. You just knew it. You were not going to fall into his games this time. "I'm here for my things," you simply stated as you started to move passed him. The key word being started. With one quick movement, he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip wasn't so tight that you couldn't get away but just enough to get you to look at him.

And that you did and that was the beginning of your real downfall.

"I'm really not going to let my best assistant leave that easily," his voice was calm but his eyes not so much. They held a fire in them that had you questioning yourself.

"I thought you were the one who fired me. Seems to me that means you decided to let me go that easily," the reply rolled off your tongue, coolly. "Besides, you have employees that can handle my job duties. I'm just going to grab my things and see myself out."

Yoongi let go of your hand. "I didn't quite say that."

Surprisingly, you felt a sad pang in your heart at the lack of contact. Your eyes held his and you were even more shocked to see another emotion swirling in his eyes. Was that sadness? Regret? Whatever emotion it was played upon his lips as well because suddenly they were in a frown. Was the normally emotionless boss finally slapped in the face with the reality of firing his best assistant? He walked off to his office in silence.

You exhaled sharply, not realizing you had been holding it. While heading to your desk just outside of Yoongi's office door, you grabbed an empty box that once held reams of paper. The empty office felt as empty as your thoughts while you began to pack away your personal belongings.

Halfway done, you plopped into the swirly chair and ran your hands across your face to massage at your temples. The past several years of memories started to play out in your mind. There were plenty of good memories surrounding your coworkers and even those including your boss. It had only been the past year that his attitude, or lack of, that he started showing less emotion. You began to wonder why.

As if he had read your thoughts, Yoongi made himself known by clearing his throat. He leaned against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. There was a fond look on his face.

"You know, I remember the day I hired you," he said while pushing off the frame of the door. Slowly, he made his way to stand beside your seat. "It was five years ago. I, myself, was just as new as you were at the time. My father insisted that my first move as boss was to hire my own assistant. One that could easily learn my needs and wants. One that was dedicated and eager. Someone that was trustworthy."

You perked up, tilting your head to the side. You swiveled around in your chair and looked up at him. You nodded for him to continue. He was silent for a moment.

"I found that in you. You had all of the qualities and then some. Throughout the years, I've watched you flourish in this position. You've handled things that assistants shouldn't do. You've kept your nose clean, and most certainly have kept my company exceeding everyone's expectations," Yoongi fiddled with his fingers, nervousness started to show.

"Well, if that's the case why…." He held up a hand to cut you off. A brow perked while trying to gauge what Yoongi was up to. Your she demon side was threatening to escape the box that you so neatly put her in.

"Let me explain," he dropped to his knees in front of you. "There's a reason why, in this last year, you've seen a change in me and your job responsibilities." He was careful with his words and even more careful in the way that he put his hands atop both of your knees. It was torture. The warmth of his hands caused an eruption of tingles to spread throughout your body.

"Overtime, I felt something pulling me to you. I can't explain it. I started to look at you differently. Suddenly, your every movement caught my eye. The smell of your perfume fogged my senses. Everything about you was taking over me."

You exhaled a shaky breath. Yoongi's eyes were trained on yours. You held contact though the heat began to rise and tint your cheeks. A soft smile crept on his lips. "I've had my eye on you for a while and the frustration of not being able to have what I want made me disregard you and your feelings. I should have explained it to you before dinner on Friday night. I didn't mean that you were full on fired. I meant to make you partner that evening. In fact…" he trailed off while he traced his fingers up your thighs, "I meant to make you partner in more ways than one. The things we will do will be so…." He spoke but you were not aware as his voice drifted in and out of your hearing.

Partner? More ways than one? The lustful thought went into overdrive. As his words sank in, realization did too. You didn't hate your boss. It was quite the opposite. You were wildly attracted to him. And people always said that there was a fine line between love and hate.

You couldn't hear the rest of what Yoongi was saying when he continued on. He was still lightly tracing up and down your thighs and it put you into some kind of trance. Your mind was too busy trying to make sense of everything to register the touch. It was a lot to process. Partner and partner? Some of those deep-seeded fantasies started to blossom.

".....and if you're uncomfortable we can always stop." He finished and was gazing at you quietly. The lack of his voice pulled you out of a hypnotic state.

You blinked and both of your brows were raised. You smiled a sheepish smile. "I'm not sure, Yoongi. I may need some more persuasion."

"Persuasion, you say?" The gleam in his eyes spoke a thousand words that the smirk upon his lips did not utter. He rose and pulled you with him. His arm slid to the small of your back to press you against him. The other hand clutched the back of your neck. Naturally, you tilted your head back, eager to meet his lips.

Yoongi descended on them like a man starved. His tongue swept your bottom lip, enthusiastically seeking entrance. Allowing him such access deepened it and allowed a soft moan to escape. The office melted away along with any of your worries. Yoongi's lips made sure of it.

You broke away, both of you gasping and eyes locked on one another. Nothing else mattered in that moment besides the two of you. He admired your lips, swollen and pink from his kiss. He decided that he didn't like your hair pinned back. Yoongi took hold of the pins holding your hair and removed them. Your hair fell in soft curls around your shoulders as he watched in awe.

Yoongi took your hand. He zoomed you to the confines of his office and kicked his door shut with his foot. You helped slide his suit jacket off and were working on the buttons to his shirt with shaking hands. From nerves or excitement, who knew? Flinging open his shirt, you ran your hands down his chest over the undershirt. Why did he have to wear so many layers? You thought when your fingers met the cool metal buckle of his belt. You released the belt and made quick work of the fly of his pants.

When his pants pooled around his ankles, an audible gasp left you at the sight of his hard member straining against the fabric of his boxers. Yoongi pulled off his undershirt while you dropped to your knees in front of him. Your mouth watered at the delicious view in front of you. Pale skin, clear of any blemishes or scars gave onslaught to your eyes, and you couldn't contain the moan if you wanted to. He was even better unclothed, save for the boxers. You palmed at Yoongi's thighs as you ran them from his knees up to band of his underwear.

You only looked up when his hand stopped your's. The other took you by your chin, angling you to get a better look at your face. He thought you looked glorious, like an angel looking up at him with hooded eyes. The want and hunger ever apparent with your lips parted in a pant.

"Not, now baby, this is about making you partner. I intend to vet you fully," Yoongi gave you a half smirk. He encircled your wrist and yanked you upward. In one quick motion, your back slammed against his office door. Breath knocked out of your lungs only for Yoongi to breathe his own back into you. His mouth made claim against your's once more. It was like he was drinking you up. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth while running his hands the along the length of your torso. He couldn't get enough.

Yoongi was so painfully hard but he intended to take his time. Enjoy you to the fullest as he had fantasized about this day for so long. He gave the entire company a paid day off for this moment and it already paid itself off tenfold. Much slower to your liking, he removed each article of clothing of your's while kissing down your neck. He stopped every so often, sucking, causing purple and red marks to bloom across your skin. He kissed, licked, and nibbled along the swells of your breasts that peeked from the cups of your bra.

Removal of said item was much quicker. Yoongi just had to get his hands and lips all over your breasts. You dropped your head back against the door when his tongue darted out and swiped over one of your nipples. His free hand slipped inside the top of your dress slacks, he wasn't concerned that they were still on.

Yoongi was more worried about feeling the arousal pooling in your panties. He wasn't able to get a good angle, so he settled on using the heel of his hand to press against your clothed mound. His middle finger rubbed back and forth over the cloth covering your slit. The pressure had you swimming and moaning. You ran your fingers through Yoongi's hair as he continued his movements. His lips were latched so perfect on your nipple. He suckled harder for a moment and nipped it before lavishing his attention on the other. The soft moans and sighs coming from your lips spurred him on.

He detached to return to your mouth, the kiss near animalistic. His need only grew as he rolled himself into you, seeking relief, while he tore the fly open to your dress pants. He pulled your ruined panties and pants down in one fell swoop.

Bare before him and trapped safely in his arms, he lifted you up, never once breaking the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He walked the two of you to his desk where he perched your ass on top of the edge. You reached on either side pushing off what you could reach.

Yoongi's fingers curled around your neck to push you down across the shorter end of his desk. As you laid back, his hand travelled the length of you and rested splayed across your lower abdomen. "Fuck, you're absolutely beautiful," he praised, taking in your features. Your chest was heaving with every breath.

You let your legs fall open and everything was on display for Yoongi's eyes. His eyes landed on your naked pussy, pink and dripping with want. "Take it, Yoongi. Whatever you want, it's yours."

That's all it took for him, he was on his knees in front of you and the desk, which happened to have your wet cunt in a perfect position. There was no embarrassment about being totally naked before him. In fact, you were a little grumpy because he was taking too long to touch you. "NOW, YOONGI!" You yelled out in frustration.

Yoongi bit down on your inner thigh, earning a surprised 'eep' from you. "Patience, or else Ms. Moody will be your name again," he chuckled in between the small kisses that trailed closer to the apex of your thighs. He continued around kissing the top of your mound, anywhere but right where you wanted. No, where you needed.

You felt him smirk against you, literally smirk when he darted his tongue out just above the hood of your clit. The annoyed whine that followed was proof of his further teasing. "I'll show you Ms. Moody." You trapped his head between your thighs and grabbed tight at the hair on the back of his head.

Yoongi revelled in the action and grabbed ahold of your ass cheeks. Long fingers dug in before slapping at the sides of your cheeks. He brought his hands around underneath where your thighs met your buttocks and pushed them up and apart. His incoming onslaught onto your clit had you keening. He attacked with fervor. An obscene, muffled moan from him shot through your core when he lapped at the arousal pooled inside your entrance. You would have thought you were his final meal at the slurping sound that echoed throughout his office.

"Fuuuuuhhhhck, Yoongi, right there," you groaned as he continued to work you over. He alternated between harsh, flat licks and fast, short pointed tongue licks against and around your clit. Yoongi's right hand joined the fray. There was no preamble to its entrance as he used the gathering saliva and arousal as lubrication and dipped one finger in. It was quickly followed by a second that scissored in and out of your wet cunt. He spent time working you open as he heard your moans increase in length and volume. Your pelvis ground into his mouth and fingers while you were being driven closer to the edge. That ledge was screaming for you to fall off. Yoongi's two fingers turned and curled beckoning your pleasure hither.

Your mind and body jumped off the edge with his name shouting from your lips. Back arching off the desk and hips pressing down, your orgasm ripped through you. Yoongi licked up every bit of your release and savored your taste.

You laid there, in the afterglow, thighs still trembling. The loss of Yoongi's fingers and mouth made you whine pathetically. His warmth returned just as quickly as it had left. He stood between your legs. The magnificent sight before you renewed the lust in your core. Yoongi had removed his boxers and was stroking his length at the sight of your already fucked out face.

You wanted to watch him for days. The way he sucked in his bottom lip and bit at it, and the way the head of his cock was engorged, red, angry, and glistening with pre-cum were both being filed away to memory.

"I'm not finished with you yet," were the promising words that he groaned out, lust heavily lace in his timbre. It was not a threat but a vow to utterly wreck your core. The crinkle of the condom wrapper was unmistakable. Yoongi hissed at the feel of rolling the rubber down his painfully hardened cock. Your eyes pleading with him as he stepped closer. One hand was at the base of his shaft and the other slid down to the back of your knee.

Yoongi's jaw clenched when the tip of his cock dipped into your entrance that clenched at the feeling of the protrusion. "Fuck, baby, I thought you were ready for me," he said, while slipping in another inch. The sound of his voice almost made you cum alone. Shit, he was going to be the death of you. You angled your hips up, allowing him to slide in further

"Please, Yoongi, just fuck me already. Need your cock!" You begged, sounding like a slut just hungry for a good dicking down. He bit his lip again and in one full thrust forward, Yoongi was buried to the hilt. Your walls clenched around him. He nearly rejoiced as if it were homecoming.

Slowly, he drew back and snapped his hips into yours. His hands gripped at either side of your hips, holding you in place. You were likely to have bruising but you'd wear them like a badge of honor.

Yoongi's pelvic bone flush against your clit. "Not only am I gaining a partner but also a cockwarmer. You'd like that, huh?" The confidence in his words had you aching for more. How you begged for him to move, or do anything as you became drunk on his cock.

Yoongi looked down at where you were joined. The sinful vision of your pussy stretched around his thick length. He moaned at such a sight. "Mmmm, baby this pussy was made for me. Heaven sent." He drawled out right as he began a steady pace of thrusting in and out of your sodden cunt. You bent your knees to pull your legs back a little further but this made Yoongi grab your ankles and push your legs together.

He angled your legs to the side and thrust deeply. The new position allowed him to directly batter your g-spot. You moaned out a broken version of his name. Each stroke hit so deep and hard.

Yoongi kept fucking into you with abandon. It was hard to tell when one moan stopped and another one began. God, how he loved to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust. The quick drag of his cock in and out of your pussy was threatening his release but he held on wanting to pull another orgasm from you. He pulled both of your legs up, putting an ankle on either side of his head and held on for dear life. With each pulse of your pussy, around his length, you tightened more and more. The urge to cum was strong in the two of you but neither wanted it to end. Your moans were intermingled in between breaths.

Yoongi dropped your legs to his hips when the need to cum became overpowering. He leaned across your torso, kissing you vigorously, while each thrust pushed you across the desk. Your hands flew to his back in this position and you scraped them in a downward motion. You wrapped your legs around him and arched your back.

"Fuhhhhhck, Yoongi!" You cried out as a powerful snap of his hips combined with him sucking at the pulse of your neck wrecked you. Your whole body wracked with your orgasm that washed over you. Delirious from hearing your pleasure and the feel of your cunt squeezing his cock in time, Yoongi blew his own load. His hips stuttered against yours but one final thrust landed directly onto your g-spot and he stilled.

You secretly wished his cum was painting your walls but the condom held his seed safely from your womb. He stayed like that a moment, resting his forehead against your's. Your panting breaths being the only sound in the office except for the quiet ticking of the clock.

Yoongi stood up, sliding out of your wrecked core. He disposed of the condom and turned back towards you to help you sit up. "Damn, Yoongi, is that how you initiate all your partners?" You quipped with a silly grin.

"Mmmm, not just any partner. Only the ones who put in the work," he answered with a wink. His demeanor was notably different. His lips had a gummy smile plastered to them. One you hadn't seen in ages. He tossed you your under garments before putting on his own. "Normally, I'd help you clean up but as you can tell, I don't normally have visitors in my office." Yoongi was a little embarrased now. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. It was cute how his cheeks had a twinge of pink across them.

"It's fine. I plan on heading home and taking a nice, relaxing shower. Work was strenuous today," you said while getting dressed. Your slacks were no longer able to be secured. You looked at Yoongi sheepishly, "Can I borrow your belt until tomorrow? I'm afraid I won't make it out of here with my pants up."

"Sure thing," he said, "Let me lend you a hand." Yoongi got his belt and slid it through each of the belt loops. The closeness was still so intoxicating. You began to wonder if you would make it home at all. After buckling the belt for you he asked, "Anything else I can do for you?"

A sly grin crossed your lips and your eyes lit up, "You know, now that I think about it…." You scratched at your chin in jest, "your services are no longer required."

Yoongi held up a hand to his heart in mock shock, "That's a low blow. I am hurt….hurt I tell you." He returned your playful banter.

"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow, partner," you said heading to the door and opened it. Yoongi was behind you, only dressed in his boxers and undershirt.

On the other side of the door stood Namjoon and the five other men that had been at dinner on Friday evening. They all were drained of any color in shock at the state of Yoongi's undress and your messy hair and hickies on your neck.

"Fuck, I forgot the negotiation conference was today."

The End

[tails89]

If you’re still doing the prompts thing, could you do #20 (“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with...I’m in.”) with Buddie from 9-1-1 please? And if not, no worries. :)

Hey there, sorry this took so long. Sometimes my brain just doesn't want to cooperate...

Anyway, hope you enjoy (I changed the prompt a lil)

Also posted on AO3

“Here.” The beer appears in Buck’s peripheral vision, and he reaches for it, fingers slipping in the cool condensation that beads down the side of the bottle.

“Thanks man.” He takes a long sip and stares out into the backyard. “Oh, hey. How were parent teacher interviews yesterday?”

Eddie groans and drops heavily onto the porch swing, throwing his legs up on the railing beside Buck’s.

“They were fine,” he says, taking a long drink from his beer.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound fine,” Buck says, twisting to face Eddie. “Is everything okay with Chris? Is there—"

“Christopher’s fine.” Eddie cuts Buck off before he can get too worked up. “He’s doing well in school, got lots of friends.”

“Oh.” Buck takes a sip of his own drink. “So, what’s the matter then?”

Eddie pulls his feet from the railing and plants them on the porch.

“He’s got this one teacher, and every time I see her, she’s got something to say about me being a single dad.” Eddie leans forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “Like I’m not good enough for him on my own.”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Buck says. “You’re a great dad.”

Eddie just waves him off.

“Anyway, she was going on about my job and how the long hours aren’t fair on Chris and how alone he is... anyway... Chris told her he’s not alone. He said he’s got me and Carla, Pepa and Abuela and... his Buck.”

“Of course, Eds, you know we’re all there for Chris.”

“I know but, I just—I don’t know why I said it.” Eddie leans back against the swing, staring out into the night.

“Said what?”

“I may have told her we were together...”

The half-mouthful of beer goes down the wrong hole and Buck chokes.

“What?” He wipes his sleeve against his mouth to catch the liquid that’s spilled down his chin.

“It just came out. She kept going on about the type of home environment I was providing, and I know I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but—Chris was so excited. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true—"

“Eddie, it’s fine.” Buck fidgets with the label on his bottle. He can’t quite bring himself to look at his best friend, afraid his face will give him away. It makes sense now why Chris was so happy to see him today, and perhaps why it had taken so long for Eddie to get him into bed. “You need to tell him though.”

“I know.” Eddie sighs and drains his beer. “I honestly didn’t think he’d be excited about the prospect of me dating again. We haven’t really talked about it.”

Buck isn’t excited about the idea of Eddie dating again, dating someone else. He keeps his mouth shut though and finishes his beer. The seeds of a very terrible, stupid plan start to take root in his brain.

“Hey, if uh,” the words stick in his throat. “If you need some time, to tell Chris, I don’t mind pretending for a day or two.” Buck’s heart is pounding so loud in his chest, he wonders if Eddie can hear it too. “Just until you do.”

Eddie laughs, tipping his head back against the seat.

“That is, without a doubt, the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with...” he says, still chuckling.

“Ha, yeah,” Buck plasters a grin on his face. “Pretty stupid.”

“You know what, I’m in,” Eddie says, regaining his composure. “Just for a day or so. I’ve got the rest of the parent teacher interviews tomorrow night and then I’ll sit Chris down and explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“What about the rest of the team?” Buck asks. “We’ve got a ten-hour shift tomorrow. What happens if they find out?”

“They won’t.” Eddie’s tone is warm and reassuring but Buck shakes his head.

“It just takes one,” he points out. “If Maddie finds out, she’ll tell Chim. And if Chim finds out—” he lets his head tip back with a groan, “—he’ll tell everyone.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Eddie asks him, planting his feet back on the porch and sitting up.

Yes, because if people find out that they’re ‘dating’ they’ll have questions and Buck can’t handle that kind of scrutiny, not when he’s already harbouring major feelings for his best friend.

“No,” he says instead. “I guess not. It’s just one day. What’s the worst that could happen?”

~

Buck pulls up at the station bright and early the next morning. He parks beside Eddie’s truck, a smile spreading across his face when he realises he has Chris with him.

“Bucky!” Chris's whole face lights up and he throws his arms around Buck.

“Hey bud.” Buck ruffles the kid’s hair and walks with them towards the firehouse. “What are you doing here?”

“Pepa’s running late,” Eddie explains. “She got caught up in traffic, so she’s going to pick Chris up from here. She shouldn’t be long,” he says, addressing Bobby this time.

“It’s not a problem. You hungry Chris?” Bobby asks, matching Chris’ pace as they head for the stairs. “I’ll see what I can rustle up for breakfast and you can tell me all about school.”

Chris nods along enthusiastically, following on behind Bobby.

“Hey Christopher.” Chimney leans over the balcony rail. “You got any fun stories for us kid?”

“Oh yeah!” Chris hands his dad one of his crutches so he can free up a hand to grip the stair rail. “Did you guys know Dad and Buck are dating?”

Every eye in the building turns to them.

The thing about the station is that it’s never truly quiet. There’s always some noise, some movement, no matter the time of day. But in that moment Buck could have heard a pin drop.

Hen is the first to break the silence.

“Alright, pay up.” She waves her fingers in Chim's face. “Better luck next time boys,” she crows, holding out her hands.

“I definitely heard you say November,” Chimney argues.

“I said, before November.” Hen grins. “It’s before November. Now pay up.”

“You couldn’t have waited just a few more weeks?” Chimney asks them. “Really, is that too much to ask?”

“What is happening right now?” Buck stares at his friends in disbelief. “Have you all been taking bets on us?”

Hen and Chimney share a look. “Uh, yes.”

They say it together, Hen bursting into laughter at the indignation on Buck’s face. “Oh please, you think you’re so hard to read? You wear your heart on your sleeve, Buckaroo. I read you.”

She counts the money she’s won, stuffing the notes into her pocket. “You boys just paid for my anniversary dinner. I can’t wait to tell Karen.” She pauses. “I don’t suppose you two also offer babysitting services?”

Buck bites his lip to hold back the panic clawing at his chest. His gaze flicks to Eddie, laughing and reassuring Chris that he’s not in trouble for spilling the beans. He’s acting like it’s nothing—like their whole team hasn’t been plotting behind their backs.

Eddie had promised that no one else would know, but that had gone down the drain in seconds. And now what? Do they keep up the lie or do they come clean? The idea of telling everyone that it’s not real is worse than knowing they’d been betting on him and Eddie getting together. Or do they already know that too? Maybe that’s the next bet and they’re all just waiting.

“I, uh—” Buck takes a half step back. “I’ll just be back in a minute.”

He doesn’t run for the stairs. He keeps his gait even until he’s at the bottom of the staircase and then he makes his escape to the bathrooms.

Buck spends the rest of the day avoiding the team. Well, avoiding them as much as he is able while still doing his job. While they’re at the station, he finds chores to keep himself busy, ignoring the looks he gets from Hen and Chim and ignoring the friendly teasing that he can’t take a joke.

Avoiding Eddie is the worst. Buck can’t bring himself to do it. He constantly finds himself gravitating back towards his best friend, drawn like a moth to a flame.

Buck keeps waiting for Eddie to pull him aside and ask why he’s not keeping his end of the bargain. Eddie keeps looking over at him, face pinched with an expression Buck can’t quite name. He’s probably pissed Buck couldn’t even keep it up for twenty-four hours, and now they’re both going to look like fools in front of the rest of the team.

~

“Thought I’d find you hiding in here.”

Buck glances up from the bunk to catch Bobby leaning in the doorway.

“I’m not hiding.”

“Good, because lunch is ready.” He goes to leave, then stops, rapping his knuckles against the door frame. “For what it’s worth Buck, we’re happy for you. Both of you.”

“Thanks Bobby.” Buck stands slowly, inhaling deeply. He can do this. He can pretend to be dating Eddie in front of his co-workers while also somehow pretending that he’s not wildly in love with his best friend. He’s got this, no problem.

Buck lets the breath go in a rush.

He’s so fucked.

Everyone’s eyes look up as Buck reaches the kitchen. He’s the last to sit and there’s just the one spare seat left beside Eddie.

As he settles into the chair, Eddie bumps their knees together under the table and offers Buck a reassuring smile.

“So,” Chim says reaching for the salad bowl. “I need details. When did this start?” He gestures between the two of them with the salad tongs before loading up his plate.

“Yeah, how long have you been keeping this from us?” Albert pipes up.

Buck swallows against the lump in his throat. They should have come up with something, just in case, but now they have nothing and—

“It was a few weeks after I got home from the hospital.”

Buck glances across at Eddie, brows knit together in confusion.

“I’d broken up with Ana and Buck was over a lot, helping with Chris,” Eddie explains, accepting a plate from Hen. “There was this one day. Buck had just got back after dropping Chris at school and we realised Chris had forgotten to take this book he’d wanted for show and tell.”

Buck can feel his frown deepening. He remembers this.

“Anyway, Buck wanted to go all the way back to Chris’ school to give it to him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Eddie’s looking at him now, holding Buck’s gaze as he recounts the story. The whole team is looking at them, the heat of their scrutiny makes Buck squirm in his seat. “I said it didn’t matter, Chris could just take it another day, but Buck said—"

“It matters to Chris.” Buck feels his face flush. At the time, Eddie had laughed and said something about Buck being too good for them before Buck had run out of the house clutching the book.

“It just kind of hit me, you know?” Eddie finally looks away, reaching for the bread rolls in the middle of the table. “Just how lucky I am to have him and how much he cares about us and… I kissed him.”

There’s a collective gasp from around the table and all eyes turn back on Buck.

“And what did you do, Buckaroo?” Hen asks, leaning forward in her seat.

“I uh—” Buck glances at Eddie, eyes wide. “I kissed him back?”

“Yeah, and it was about damn time,” Chimney shouts around a mouthful of pasta. “You guys are so cute. It’s disgusting.”

~

The rest of the shift is better after that. Everyone seems satisfied by their story and Buck lets himself fall back into his regular comfortable rhythm, hanging with Eddie between call outs. There is still some awkwardness to it, Buck can’t stop his mind from wandering back to that morning, imagining what it would have been like if it had gone more like Eddie’s story. He’s surprised Eddie even remembered it, it had been just another day between the regular doctor and physical therapy appointments that consumed his every waking minute.

He waits until later that night to say anything. Chris is in bed and they’re back on the porch nursing a beer each.

“Can I, uh, ask you a question?” Buck tears at the label on his bottle. “That thing you said at lunch, about how we got together…” He trails off, not quite sure how to verbalise the whirlwind of feelings it had stirred in him.

“Yeah, well I had to say something convincing,” Eddie says, taking a sip of his beer.

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Buck had spent the whole afternoon thinking that maybe, just maybe his feelings for Eddie weren’t as one-sided as he’d initially thought. This though, this is like a bucket of ice water to the face. “I don’t think I can do this, Eds.”

Eddie’s head jerks up.

“I thought I could pretend, but I can’t.”

“Why did you suggest it then?” Eddie doesn’t sound angry. Buck almost wishes he did, it would be easier if the were both yelling at each other. Anything would be better than the soft disappointment in Eddie’s tone.

“I thought—” Buck takes a breath and tries again. “I wasn’t thinking when I suggested it. I think there was just a part of me that thought that getting to pretend with you was better than nothing. It’s not though, it just made it that much more obvious how much I want this— want us.” Putting down his beer, Buck goes to stand. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna go—”

“Wait. Buck.” Eddie catches his arm. “I should have kissed you.”

“What?”

“Chris’ show and tell. I didn’t kiss you that day, but I wanted to. You were just out the door so damn fast.”

“You wanted to kiss me?”

Eddie pulls him back down onto the swing with a fond eyeroll. “We’re you not listening to my story at lunch?” he asks, voice teasing. “I meant what I said about how it just hit me. You’re amazing Buck, and Chris and I are both so lucky to have someone like you, someone who cares with everything you have. I think I’ve loved you for a while, but that morning I knew.”

“I love you too.” Buck knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but right now he doesn’t care. “I know you didn’t kiss me back then but… you can kiss me now.”

And Eddie does.

It starts off soft and slow—a tentative brushing of their lips, but then as neither of them back off it grows more desperate. Buck curls his fingers in the hem of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulls away, they’re both red-faced and breathing hard.

“So, I guess this means we don’t need to break up,” Buck says with a laugh.

“No,” Eddie agrees. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time.”

[holykillercake]

Hazy Justice - 03

01 02 03

🇨‌🇴‌🇵‌!🇸‌🇲‌🇴‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇽‌ 🇲‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇾‌🇩‌🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌!🇷‌🇪‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌

word count: 2.5k

summary: After eight years serving your country in a war, you returned to your hometown as the new head of Trauma Surgery in one of the best hospitals in the country. You were expecting a calmer life now, but suddenly you see yourself choosing between your brain and your heart, light and dark, justice and evil.

highlight: ¨You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.¨

warning:  Use sunglasses. Too bright.

notes: .Dear comrades, it has been a while but it's finally here! With new characters and lots and lots of threads.

🇱‌🇪‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇱‌🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌!

¨Hello...¨ you were instantly greeted by the tingling doorbells that let the owner know whenever a client entered the establishment. 

Your eyes traveled to the half-moon bar where the slim and tall woman leaned casually, cigarette adorning her elegant fingers. Her eyebrows raised as she took in your figure, double-checking if you were not someone else.

¨Oh! Y/N-chan, is that you?¨

¨Shakky!¨ she made her way out of the bar to hug you ¨It´s so good to see you! You haven´t changed at all!¨

Her kind chuckle made you feel like a kid again, and you couldn´t stop yourself from tearing with the nostalgic feeling.

 ¨Thanks, Baby. Now you,¨ she put her hands on your shoulders and opened a distance, eyes examining you like a mother hawk ¨you look tired. Eight years in war made you no good.¨

You nodded and laughed ¨I guess we can put it that way.¨

¨Come, treat is on the house.¨ 

Clapping your hands, you followed the lady towards the bar. ¨So, where´s Rayleigh-san?¨ 

¨He just left, but it shouldn´t take long. He´ll be happy to see you, Y/N-chan.¨

The circumstances that connect you to Shakky and Rayleigh go way back to decades ago when your parents were still alive. By that time, all you knew was that they were friends, people you could trust. You were not allowed to ask more questions about their jobs, and you couldn´t find a suitable answer with the information you had. 

They were always on the road, visiting only once in a while. They would bring incredible gifts from various countries and discuss ¨adult matters¨ with your parents while Crocodile helped you with homework. 

Whenever you brought up your curiosities to your brother, he would say that they talked about the war, and you were too young to hear such things. Crocodile was also not allowed in the room, but he´d always peer into the conversation through the ventilation ducts. 

If he´s saying, it must be true.  

Since your dad was a Lieutenant Colonel, there was always the possibility of his unit being requested to offer back up or engage actively. You never minded it, though. He had already been sent to a lot of dangerous missions, and he came back every single time. He was strong and invincible. He would always return to his family. 

Well, that was true until the day you found your mother in the kitchen, breaking in tears, holding a smudged letter in her hands, together with your father´s dog tag. 

You stared at her and your brother, blinking in the hope of seeing what was wrong. The woman at the kitchen table did not look like your mother. She had no sparkle in her eyes or pride in her chest.

On the contrary, thick and dark tears fell from her eyes, blurred from the makeup that always accentuated her piercing gaze. Her lips were not curved in the tender smile she used to carry. Instead, she bit her lower lip so hard that you could almost see blood staining her pink lipstick.

¨Dad´s not coming home.¨ was all Crocodile said.

That was not the time when things got completely off track, but it was a significant change in your family's life. The government offered a military pension and a country flag for the services provided by your father. However, you had to be transferred to the Commercial District, where your mother worked as an archivist at the Ohara Institute of Historical Research. 

¨Y/N?¨ you heard a male voice call, making you turn. 

Your eyes shifted between the two male figures standing at the door. ¨Rayleigh-san!¨ you shouted like a kid seeing Santa Claus at the shopping mall ¨Smoker!?¨ this one came out more like a question. 

¨You have grown, little one!¨ he patted your head like old times. ¨Maybe my white hair makes sense. I´ve aged!¨ he laughed cheerfully, and Smoker tilted his head. 

¨Finer than wine!¨ you giggled, then turned to the other white-haired man, cheeks blushing ¨This is, uhm... I swear I´m not following you.¨ 

¨Oh, you two know each other?¨ Shakky asked, adding two more old-fashioned glasses on the counter. 

¨We´re neighbors!¨ 

¨That´s great! Come, we have a lot to talk! Today is on the house!¨ Rayleigh shouted similar words as his wife. You wondered if that was the synchronization of personalities or if the alcohol he had prior was impairing his judgment. 

Shakky decided to close for the day, wanting to spend as much time as possible in your company. The clock seemed to have stopped while you were drinking, eating snacks, and catching up on years of conversation. 

It was funny how sometimes it felt like a ping pong game between you and Rayleigh. Every so often, the conversation would turn into matches of him serving shots of military-wise improper questions and you backhanding with ¨That´s classified information, Rayleigh-san.¨.

Did he have a poor memory or all those years of scotch and cigars in your father´s office taught him nothing? Either way, you were having too good of a time at that table to worry about his faulty memory. 

¨Are you sure you´re neighbors?¨ Shakky asked with a playful grin ¨You seem to know nothing about each other.¨

¨I would say that´s a pretty sharp point.¨ you answered in the same lighted tone. 

¨Tight schedules, I´d say.¨ Smoker added, shifting on the couch.

¨But it looks like you´re free today. How about dinner? Four of us, our house, like old times Y/N.¨ Rayleigh seemed too keen on this, and you wondered if he was trying to set you up on a date. 

¨Well, as much as I would love that, I´ve got plans for tonight.¨ 

¨Let me guess,¨ Rayleigh created a tension ¨classified information?¨ 

You laughed loudly at his stupid joke. It was a predictable Ray-san ice breaker, but you couldn't help yourself. This man was a blissful delight. 

¨Much to your content, tonight´s plan I´ll be able to spill.¨ you teased him ¨I´m having dinner with Crocodile tonight!¨ 

What happened after you pronounced those words would have gone unnoticed by someone inattentive. It felt like a slight change in the air, like those quiet moments before a bomb exploded, when the clock stopped ticking. 

You didn´t have the chance to question before Shakky took the wheel. 

¨That´s great, Y/N!¨ her elegant hands embraced yours, affectionate and caring ¨Did you see how much he´s changed?¨ 

¨Uhm, actually,¨ you blinked, focusing back on the conversation ¨it´s the first I meet him in... eight years.¨ 

The tightness you felt in your chest almost made you tear, and the woman saw it. Her eyes carried a hint of compassion... or pity. 

¨You miss him a great deal, right, Baby?¨ 

¨Yeah...¨ you shrugged ¨he was out of town when I arrived, so I only got the chance now. But how´s he doing? Did he change a lot?¨

¨Oh, baby, it´s been a while since we met. He´s a busy man, you know.¨ 

Your brows raised, then furrowed, and you had a perplexed smile hanging on your lips. You would not have believed those words if they hadn´t come directly from them. 

¨Oh, wha- well, I´ll¨ a nervous laugh left your mouth ¨I´ll drag him by the hair, then! Busy man, bullshit! He used to bug mom and dad all the time, asking why you guys couldn´t live with us!¨

¨Don´t stress yourself over that, Y/N.¨ Rayleigh said with his gentle smile.  ¨He runs a lot of businesses, I´m sure he would drop by more if he could.¨ 

Shakky nodded¨And, it´s your first time in the Light District, right? Was that the only district you haven´t lived in yet?¨

¨That and the Noble District, obviously.¨ you rolled your eyes.

¨You lived in all other districts?¨ Smoker asked after a silent moment in the conversation.

¨Yeah, long story and not that interesting. You´d be bored, trust me.¨ 

¨It´s rather difficult to find someone who lived in more than two districts, so I´d like to hear that.¨ 

¨Alright, but don´t say I didn´t warn you.¨ 

You peeked at your wristwatch, running some basic math in your head and deciding that it was time to go if you didn´t want to be late for dinner. Your lips twisted in a pout, and your expression dropped a little for having to leave this fantastic moment.  

Surprisingly enough, leaving them was not as difficult as you imagined. Maybe because they reminded you that you could visit them anytime now, or because you did not want to act like a crybaby on Smoker´s car. 

He said it was also about time for him to leave and offered you a ride back home. You would not have to take the subway and would get the chance to know him better.

 A win-win situation. 

The first minutes were a bit silent, but after you asked him if he should be driving since he had quite a lot to drink, he responded with an awkward stuttering that was rather charming. The conversation that followed was smooth as you realized he was way easier to talk to than you imagined. 

Smoker was respectful, always making sure that it was ok for you to talk about your past while sharing some things about his life as well. Inside of that car, he almost seemed like a different person. His brows were not furrowed ad his voice sounded relaxed. 

The ride ended too fast for your liking, and you saw yourself waving goodbye when deep down you wanted to ask him to stay for a coffee. Unfortunately, you couldn´t, maybe some other day. Now you had to make yourself presentable to meet your other half, your brother. 

                                                            ...

The Light District was nothing like you had seen before. The entrance was marked by a gigantic golden arch, which carried an equally shining bell.

Tall palm trees swayed in the cool breeze, tinged with orange by the sunset. Luxurious establishments, whose signs began to be lit, occupied both sides of the clear sidewalk. 

From a distance, you could see the tip of the Ferris wheel of the Sora park. It did not spin due to the recess, but the lights remained on. The roller coaster that had been the cause of the accident was surrounded by tall metal poles, being repaired for the reopening of the place.

The driver Crocodile sent to pick you up lowered the window so you could enjoy the view to the fullest. Your hair started to fly in the wind, and a delicious smell of butter invaded your nose. The restaurants had already begun to heat up the pots to receive their customers.

The Light District was projected to offer convenience to the ones who were willing to pay the price. Therefore, all that was best was located in Eldorado Avenue, the main passage that extended for kilometers like a luxurious and soft red carpet. 

¨We are approaching the hotel, miss Y/N. Sir Crocodile awaits for you.¨

¨Uh...¨ you murmured, amazed by the view. 

You squinted when something reflected in your eyes, catching your attention, and a gasp got stuck in your throat when you spotted the famous Hotel Verde.

 Well, it was impossible not to notice it. 

First of all, it did not look like a hotel. It resembled more a small town. Even taller palm trees guided the way towards the entrance, both sides occupied by ponds and tropical plants. The building stood tall like a lighthouse and at the top rested an enormous golden statue of the reptile that represented its owner.  

You did not wait for Daz, the man your brother chose to escort you, to get out when the car stopped. You put yourself out as soon as the limo parked in front of the main stairway. After so many years without putting on a heel, maybe you would accept a hand to go up the stairs.

Your hands smoothed the dark green silk dress that dragged on a short tail, courtesy of Crocodile, along with shoes and jewelry. You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.

When the valet took the car somewhere else, Daz put himself beside you, offering you his arm. Your heart pounded like the Ox Bell at every step, and you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep your cool. 

You saw various types of people coming in and out of the hotel, all of them embellished with jewels and shiny tackles like Christmas trees. Each and every one exalted wealth and power, with their nonchalant glares and pointed noses. Your gut twisted, remembering Shakky and Rayleigh´s words, wishing Crocodile hadn´t turned into someone like them. 

The long stairway was divided in the middle by a golden rail, separating who went up from who went down. That might have been the reason why the man coming down your way caught your attention. Or perhaps it was the weight of his gaze, hidden by the reddish specs. His blonde hair and skin seemed like gold, the pink suit looked orange-ish due to the sunset, and his wide grin made you quiver. 

He walked with two men by his side, freeing the way for him. At some point, no one dared to come close to the stairs. It was only the five of you. 

¨Daz!¨ the man, who seemed more familiar now, exclaimed ¨I wonder who´s the person that would make you leave your boss´back.¨

He approached you, hungry gaze brimming on his tongue. He was tall and seemed even more as he closed the distance. 

¨Not even the luxury dolls get to be escorted.¨ he gently took your hand and kissed your knuckles with delicacy. 

You weren´t convinced by his gesture. If anything, you felt bothered to see him disrespecting the house´s rules, as if that disrespected you directly. ¨Tell me, dear, what is your name?¨

¨If you wish to know something from someone, it is more appropriate to introduce yourself first.¨ your voice came out indifferent and a vein popped on his forehead before breaking into laughter.

¨Fufufu I can´t say you are wrong!¨ he leaned back, large hand on his stomach. ¨I´m Donquixote Doflamingo. It surprised me that you couldn't put that together. Now tell me, doll, what do they call you?¨

You sighed and looked around, spotting a figure at the top of the stairs that lifted your mood and gave you all the strength and confidence you needed to end the conversation. A smile grew on your lips as you turned to Doflamingo, eyeing him with nothing but the will to leave. 

¨They call me Lieutenant-Colonel Y/N L/N, Division Surgeon of the Army. Or just LT Colonel L/N if you prefer.¨ you offered him a respectful nod before turning your attention to the man who waited for you with a smile on his face. ¨Now, if you excuse me, Mr. Donquixote.¨

[kashimos-hajime]

fragrance | a.h.

summary: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

WARNINGS: LMAO SMUT (18+), oral (m!receiving), swearing, drinking, nervous and awkward y/n and hotch heehee pairing: college!aaron hotchner x fem!reader word count: 4.8k

a/n: lmao so i watched a tiktok of THAT SCENE in love and human remains so i am legally obligated to write what inspired me. ok but @venusbarnes,,, it happened,,,

part of the bitter end universe but not required beforehand to read this. takes place in their second year of college

In retrospect, you know you’re freaking out over nothing.

You just showered, changed outfits twice, tried to fix your hair, inspected your makeup constantly since you’ve finished, and tried to figure out a way to call it off to pass the time.

Why are you even worried? Ever since you’ve gotten off the plane, which, in itself, is a step you cannot backtrack since you are merely a college student with limited funds, your knees have been weak and you feel like you don’t really have a stomach.

Why? It’ll be fine.

You’ve been over Aaron for two-and-some-months years, now. The distance did you good, did you both good. Namely, you’re quite damn sure you don’t feel anything for him anymore besides the occasional flicker of irritation, the excited burst in your stomach, the absolute terror of seeing him again.

How has he changed? It feels like it’s been so long.

You glance at the clock.

9:55

You said 10AM. You have five minutes at the most to get yourself together and just run down the staircase, shove yourself into his presence before your nerves can tell you to turn back. Taking a deep breath, you look at your reflection in the mirror one last time before heading to the desk and grabbing your wrist watch. It’s worn down leather is soft to your touch and you feel an overwhelming sense of calm overtake you.

This will be fine.

As you fasten it to your wrist, you glance at the face. Time seems to tick by slower as you pull on your ankle boots, swipe a finger over your lip, and grab your room key. As you descend the cold stairwell, memories grasp at your consciousness, tease you, but you push them away and instead focus on putting on foot in front of the other, focus on gathering the courage to stand in front of him again.

Before you know it, you’re opening the door and walking over to the pacing figure you only know to be your best friend. His hair is still long, but he’s wearing a leather jacket, so that’s new, and he’s frowning to himself.

And it makes you smile, because that’s him. Aaron Hotchner, master frowner, broody boy. His hair is still long, his eyes still so dark. He hasn’t changed.

God, what will you say to make him laugh?

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you say without thinking.

“George? And here I thought I was John,” he replies just as quickly, matching your tone and your entire heart lurches into your throat as your smile grows stiffly.

Crap. 

And that’s when you realize that, quite frankly, that convincing yourself that you’re over Aaron Hotchner is going to be a lot harder than it looked at first.

You’re fighting the urge to let the whole facade drop, but you can’t because this is Aaron, your best friend you haven’t seen in forever and although you’re so fucking happy to see him, you know everything is easier said than done.

He’s just your best friend, and you’re… you’re… feeling great. Your stomach is a bundle of nerves but that’s because you’re excited to spend time with him. Right?

“So, where to?” you ask, feeling quite exposed as he looks at you strangely. “I’m starving,” you say, an overwhelming need to explain causing word vomit to spill out of your mouth, “so, I was thinking we could get some breakfast, first. I’m in the mood for anything really.”

“Oh,” he says. “I have a place in mind.”

“O-okay. Lead the way, then. It’s kinda chilly out, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you needa grab another coat?” he asks as you step closer and they begin to walk to the door. He opens it for you and as you slip past him, your entire system shuts down. Your mind heads straight for the gutter, vivid images, voices, feelings from your dream flashing through your head.

Cheap beer, smoke, sweat, and a cologne you can’t forget.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. Are you, uhm, are you going to be okay in just that jacket? It looks great, by the way.” Are your hands shaking or is that just the swelling throat and the hard lump in your gut’s fault?

Shit. Holy shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

“Thanks, and, uh, no. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

You nod and smile shakily. “Great. It’s just… I’m really glad to see you.”

He stops for a moment, stares as if he knows or maybe you just feel naked in your own skin, and then matches your timid smile. “I’m really happy to see you too.”

Right. What did you say again about nerves?

[TWENTY HOURS EARLIER]

“You guys better behave,” Aaron sighs. “I’m not gonna be responsible if I have to deck Carter.”

“Woah there, Hotch,” his roommate comments, sliding off his bed and slinging an around his shoulders. “You have a girlfriend.”

“We’re on a break, actually.”

“I thought you don’t believe in breaks.”

“Well, we’re just talking things out with the long distance thing. It’s not like when she was in high school. She just needs to adjust to her first year, and we’re still talking. So, it’s more like… an intermission before we resume after mid-terms.”

“So, you’re single.”

“Technically, but I’m also not looking,” he retorts, just in case his roommate tries to set something up behind his back, but the guy merely shrugs.

“Whatever you say, Hotch-o.”

He scowls, getting up and running a hand through his hair before grabbing his jacket off the hook. “I’m just trying to say that Y/N’s been there for me since before you guys and before Haley.”

“I get it,” his roommate, named Earl, says as he flips the collar of his varsity jacket and grabs the room key. “She’s like a sister to you, right?” Aaron doesn’t say anything to that and Earl doesn’t prod him any further as he grabs his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hotch. I’ll spread the word to the guys. They won’t try anything.”

“Yeah, thanks, Earl.”

“I’m heading to class, but it’s the bar tonight, right? You’ll pick her up from the airport?”

“Yeah.” The door opens and closes with a click and Aaron lets out a sigh, turning away from the mirror so he can stop pretending he’s trying to fix whatever Earl thought was wrong with his appearance. He just wanted to stay busy so his friend could leave him alone to his messy thoughts.

He had received your last letter on Monday, confirming your flight for the Thanksgiving weekend. You’d be here with him and his friends for three days.

It wasn’t his idea, nor yours. Sort of like… a mutual epistolary understanding that enough is enough and one of them should just… go.

You had volunteered for that. You had always wanted to see Harvard’s gorgeous campus, according to your last letter.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He has one day off to catch up on the work assigned, get ahead of the reading, and just relax before his friends drag him off to hang out until the sun rises for an entire weekend. He’s sure you’ll love it. You’ve always loved staying out at night where it’s light, watching the sunrise and going to sleep to it.

Despite everything, you enjoy the solitude the night, the contemplative silence of it. Just like him. 

He can’t wait to see you again.

Sitting in the RA office and watching time tick by, he can’t help but feel like something is chaining him down. A heavy weight sits between his shoulders and he stares at the clock for what feels like a short eternity, unable to focus.

The day is slow in its passing, and a growing, unwanted hollowness begins to fill his soul as he half-heartedly finishes his criminal causation theory assignment, reviews for the quiz on Tuesday, and reads the next chapter on the foundations of the criminal justice system. He doesn’t really pay attention to any of it, though, and he feels like his head is stuffed with cotton as he gets up for the first time in hours and stretches, glancing at the time.

Your plane is supposed to land at 6:30.

It’s 6:00 now, and he was supposed to eat dinner before going to pick you up.

Shit. He’ll just have to eat at the bar.

Gathering his books and papers into his bag, he slings it onto his shoulder, trying to ignore the cold sweat clamming his hands up just as the phone in the RA office rings. It’s so jarring her starts, turning to the device and his heart pounds in his throat as he goes to grab it. Duty to the job means he has to, even if he might be late. You’ll understand, right?

“Hello, Resident Assistant speaking,” he says with a sigh.

“Hey.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Student Services was kind enough to reroute me.” A car beeps behind you and he frowns, holding the phone closer to his ear as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder to sit more firmly. “I’m calling from an airport payphone, but bad news. My flight got delayed, so I can’t come to the bar tonight. I’ll be arriving, like, dead in the morning. Two or three AM.”

“Damn. The boys will miss meeting you,” he says, unable to help the unhappy but forced smile. It comes across as a grimace but he hopes you appreciate the effort. It’s what you’d say if you were here.

“The boys?” you echo, amused. “Well then, tell the boys that they’ll have to wait until morning.” More seriously: “I’m really sorry, Aaron. I was so excited to see you tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s—it’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower?” you repeat and Aaron feels his throat shrink to the diameter of a needle. “You don’t call me that unless you’re genuinely sorry about something bad. Like, death-bad.” Then, a bright laugh that shouldn’t bat away the dreary disposition overcoming him, but it does. “Aaron, it’s not that important—just one night. Look, let’s meet up at 10AM in the hotel lobby tomorrow morning and make up for it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. See you in a bit, Hopscotch.”

“Bye.”

He heads to his room, your voice echoing in his head. Freshening up with a splash of cold water and a rake of a comb through his hair, he explains the situation to Earl as they head down to the bar near campus where some of the other guys are already drinking.

“That’s too bad. Would’ve been nice to meet her.”

“Tomorrow, Earl. She isn’t cancelling.”

“I know, but y’know, it would’ve been fun to beat her in darts.”

“You’re awful at darts.”

“Bigger opponent pool. C’mon, cheer up, Hotch. It’s just a delayed flight, you said so yourself.” More grumpy silence. “Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up. First shots are on me.”

.

His cheeks flushed with heat, he grabs at the shot blindly and throws it back, laughing as his friends get on the dance floor. The bar seems to haze before him. The darkness is pierced by blue lights and red as the shadowed patrons swing to and fro on the floor. Everything is gauzy, edges blurred as the lights flicker and filter through the crowd. Aaron slouches against the booth, smirking at the way Earl’s trying to lay the moves on a girl who merely walks away and he flashes a sympathetic thumbs up before his friend simply rejoins the rest of the guys on the floor.

Everyone had chipped in to buy him round after round in order to get him to loosen up, and it’s hard to admit, but it’s worked. Everything is ethereal, and he feels like he’s floating through life.

He wants to dance, but he doesn’t think he can stand on his own two feet, to be honest. His entire world is tipped and the silly smile on his face isn’t going to disappear any time soon as a figure makes her way through the crowd, making her way towards him. It catches his eye, the way she moves around people, keeps her head held up.

He can’t quite see her face but even then, he knows that he knows her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks before he can stop himself, like he isn’t in control of his mouth. He gapes as the woman sits down beside him. Her skin smells like sweet fruit and the sting of tequila as she slings an arm around his neck, and his entire stomach flips as she leans over, her arm bent and her fingers playing with the hair by his ear. “You’re not… you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?” she asks, twirling hair around her finger as she gently trails her other hand down his chest. “You don’t want me here?”

“No, no, I’ve missed you, I just—” Her palm runs lower, over his stomach and further. His head whips towards her and he catches the sweet, dulcet notes of warm vanilla spice shampoo. It calms him, sweet in his sinuses and he watches her indistinguishable face. Despite not seeing quite clearly, he knows she’s beautiful with an unintentionally seductive smile, a tentative charm to her movements.

The hand stops and a heat burns through his chest, following the trail she’d carved into him and he feels blood drain from his head so viciously it leaves him lightheaded.

“Just what?” she asks quietly, yet still so loudly over the pub’s pounding music and he groans softly, head tilting back.

“Shit. I just didn’t expect you here. I should introduce you to my friends—” He wants to get up but finds his entire body moving through molasses. He can barely lift a finger and, through the blurred streams of the conscious and the subconscious, he knows he doesn’t really want to.

He doesn’t want to share.

“Oh, then let’s go.” Her hand lifts but, like a flash of lightning, his fingers wrap around her wrist and keep her firmly against him. “Aaron.” Chastising this time, like he’s a housecat, and she, the exasperated owner. Fingers thread through his hair as he grins at the woman.

“I’m not keen on sharing you right now,” he admits, eyes falling to lips that press into a wondrous smile. “I don’t feel keen on sharing you ever.”

“Is that a fact?” she asks, and he nods, his nose brushing against hers as she leans down to kiss him. Her mouth is warm ecstasy, like cider on a cold winter day that burns through his blood, and his heart is beating everywhere at once—in his throat, in his fingers, between his legs. Fingers card through his hair as his hand finds the curve of a hip and he pulls.

Immediately, as if sensing his intentions before he even thinks it, the woman swings a leg over his hip and straddles him, the dress riding up luxurious thighs and he chuckles to himself as her hands find his neck, thumbs brushing over the sharp cut of his jaw. Her mouth opens against his, breathing into the next ferocious kiss again as his hands trace the shape of her, the swell of her legs, the cool heat of her skin against his burning hands.

“What do you want from me, Aaron?” she whispers, leaning in close enough that he can feel her lips against the shell of his ear, and then down his neck. He gasps, breath catching in his throat as her hands gently squeeze his throat as if reminding him of her previous question but he can’t quite speak. She kisses down past his collarbones, pulls down the neck of his shirt teasingly and peppers kisses to the skin that she can reach. Her fingers are pressing into his pulsepoint, the other hand travelling down his waist again and he knows she can feel it, the hard bulge pressing up between her legs. 

She trails back up again, her kisses teasing the corner of his mouth and he turns, trying to catch the elusive minx only to delight in her light laughter when she pulls back.

“Tease,” he mumbles, eyes shut tight and only then do her lips find his again just as fingers pull at his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as she glances down with him, curiously running her knuckles gently along the curve of it. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down his gasp and he hears her chuckle. As if he’s a mere bystander to his own actions, Aaron watches his hands trail up the sides of her and slowly find purchase on her shoulders.

With the gentlest of pressure, he pushes down, and it’s like she melts between his hands, legs sliding, entire body sinking as his legs open wider to welcome her. Her breath is warm as she unzips his jeans, fingers prying his boxers down until they brush against it, pulsing and hard against his abdomen.

“Jesus,” she whispers but he hears it so clearly, her breath teasing the tip as fingers wrap around his dick. A strong, warm tongue follows, from the bottom to the tip, tracing the vein and every single ounce of oxygen leaves his body when she goes down on him, endlessly warm and wet. Hands wrap around what isn’t in her mouth and his fingers find her scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair as his head hits the wall behind him.

Swallowing tightly, a lopsided smirk crosses his face and he lets out a soft sigh when she tilts her head, takes him in until she’s gagging on it. His hips twitch but a hand against his pelvis stalls him, a firm pressure that makes him open his eyes and look down to see her already staring back at him. Eyes dark, lips shining in what light there is, he nearly loses it right there as she swallows him down, making his entire body clench. His jaw tight, he lets out a hissed moan and the hand not on her head grabs his thigh, trying to stave off the desire to fuck her mouth.

The bass beat of the pub beats in his head as the hand on his hip finds the hand on his thigh, traces the tense veins along the back as her head slowly draws up, teeth grazing, tongue flat against his cock.

And then, down again, heavy breaths against his navel through the nose, and he’s in fucking bliss as the woman just goes on and on, deeper and deeper and when she gags, it almost makes him lose his already ill-tempered control because her fingers dig into the back of his hand, the other one squeezes the base of his cock, and stars explode behind his eyes as he chuckles breathlessly, blindly to the ceiling.

A ringing splinters through his skull as he groans, the need to thrust growing too powerful but she squeezes his hand, telling him to stay still without ever lifting her mouth off his cock. He can hear it, the sounds of her wet mouth rising and falling, sucking and licking and fuck, if he’s not going to come down her throat—

Her tongue drags along the underside of his cock as she pulls away, hollowing out her cheeks and dragging her fingers up his painfully hard erection, through the wet slick her mouth left behind and she pulls herself up, back bending underneath his hand, chest pressed flush against his and he can taste her again; the sweetness of vanilla, the sweat the pub brings all its occupants, the desire that fizzles so wantonly against his tongue.

“Am I still teasing?” she asks, lips brushing against his chin before he’s lifting his head again. Her hands run over his chest, find the planes of his shoulders, the cord of his neck, and he chuckles, squeezing his waist as she climbs into his lap again, sits squarely so that his erection rubs against her stomach. He bites back a groan and her smirk tells him all he needs to know.

“Seeing as you didn’t let me finish…” he trails off, just as humorous and she laughs, mouth ghosting his, and he almost reaches for it before she’s drawing back, always just out of reach. Never his. Never. “C’mere.”

“You’re no fun,” she mutters, but her smile betrays her faux displeasure and as his hands down and under her dress, skirting along the waistband of lacey panties, he chuckles huskily. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. And do you know how much I want you? How much… how much I need you?” His fingers hook on the waistband and begin to tug just as she cups his face and leans down. His eyes flutter shut and everything seems to melt away as her breath tickles his nose and he grins, pulling down, down, down…

“You could show me, if you’d like…”

Her laughter is the only thing he can hear. Well, that and…

And that ringing—

Holy shit, what is that ringing?

Opening his eyes, there is nothing. Reaching blindly in the darkness, his hand collides with his alarm clock and he slaps the button, turning it off as he groans, turning the digital numbers towards him.

5:45AM

When did he get back? God, his head is pounding, and… he has to get up. Shit. His thoughts are a disorganized mess as he gets up, throwing off the blankets and it’s only then he’s painfully aware that he got… more than excited about his dream.

His dream that’s fading from his memory the longer he’s awake that he can barely remember any of it. Iit was at the bar last night? When did he even get back to the dorm? 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he flicks the light on the nightstand, spotting a glass of water with a dissolving alka selzter tablet and a note. Grabbing it, he squints against the light as he reads the messy, uneven scrawl.

Stayed by your side all night because you sulked and got hammered. Like blackout drunk. Even outdrank me, buddy, which is fuckin impressive.

Wake me up for breakfast. I’m drunk.

Goodnight. And you’re welcome.

-E

Shaking his head, he downs the water despite how much his head throbs at the movement before he gets up and awkwardly palms the front of his boxers, trying to ignore how much it physically hurts that he’s not doing anything about it.

He needs to shower and take care of this.

Grabbing new clothes, Aaron glances at his snoring roommate and curses his routine of waking up so damn early. He collects his toiletries, and as he heads for the shower, he tries to think back on his dream, but it’s dissipating quicker by the second.

It was definitely at the bar, he thinks. Something about… he doesn’t know but something smelled and tasted sweet. What was I even doing at the bar?

Well, by the erection against his thigh, it’s safe to assume what he was dreaming about.

The question is more about the who.

.

Your eyes fly open and you lurch up on your bed.

Your whole body is burning as the remaining wisps of your dream begin to fade and you glance around yourself, disoriented. You could’ve sworn you weren’t in your bedroom for a second, but as you glance around, you know you are. You’re no longer in that dark place with blue lights that swung, figures blurry. That someone who was crouched in front of you, you think, is gone and his hands which had pulled your legs apart with gentle hesitation hadn’t left scorch marks, but they might as well have.

The sensation still lingers.

God, it feels like you haven’t slept a wink and as you slowly wake, your body rebooting, you become more filled with dread. Sighing heavily, you rub at your eyes and touch your cheeks, trying to remember what you did before sleeping.

I showered, went straight to bed. Didn’t go out… then… What’s happening? What was I even dreaming about?

It’s only then you become acutely aware of between your legs. The soaked, uncomfortable sensation, the strange tightness of your thighs.

Holy fuck. And about who?

Running a hand over the cold sheets, you shiver and get up, grabbing the unopened complimentary mini bottle of water you’d gotten from the plane from your bag.

As soon as you take one sip, you’re chugging it down, trying to alleviate the sweat gathering at the nape of your neck, slipping down your back. You feel oily and strangely empty, your heart racing as you toss the empty plastic into the trash can and head back towards the bed, reaching blindly for the light switch. Turning it on, you glance at the clock. 5:47 in the morning.

Charming.

In less than five hours, you’ll have to be heading down to the lobby and facing your best friend.

Why does that thought suddenly fill you with a terrible concoction of nerves, nausea, and cold shivers?

Trying to grasp the last remnants of your dream, you head for the bathroom to splash some water on your face and change your underwear, too bone-dead tired to even think about showering. Then, you head back to bed to try to get some sleep, but the heat seems to be more than skin-deep because despite the amount of splashing and patting of freezing water against an exhausted face, a terrible, sinking feeling twists your gut, making your knees weak.

What on Earth were you even dreaming about? You can’t even remember now except you feel utterly exhausted in the wake of it and the only hint of the content is the slick between your thighs.

Your sleep-addled brain eventually convinces any part of you still awake to just try to sleep, and as you slip into the covers, the faint but entirely unique scent of cologne, beer and smoke clings to your senses.

[THE PRESENT]

Really, it should be okay. 

The hotel isn’t too sketchy, the lobby smells vaguely of lavender and cinnamon from one of those bath shop candles, and he shouldn’t be worried.

Why is he worried? His guts have been in knots since he’s woken up, his head feels like it's been dunked in water for hours and everything is swimming as he sits in the lobby, his palms sweating. Maybe it’s the hangover, but it feels heavier than that. Yes, his head is hammering, but there’s a strange upset in his gut, too.

Must’ve been something about that dream he can’t quite place. Just thinking about it makes his head beat even harder.

But, you had said ten o’clock.

Ten o’clock.

He looks at his wrist watch.

9:57

Time seems to be passing so slowly that he’s not sure the seconds even tick by as his knee begins to jiggle, his hands run flat against his jeans. When he can’t take the nervous ticking inside his chest, he gets up to pace, eyes darting to the staircase where you’d be coming down from.

Is he nervous about seeing you or excited? Is it both? Neither? Something else?

Aaron thinks he’s going to throw up. What if it’s awkward? After all, years between the last visit and now—in the summer, somehow they always just miss each other or there’s money problems or some other plan—things are bound to change.

It’s nerves. It has to be.

The door opens and he turns around to see you there, walking over to him with a dark jacket over a green shirt. It clashes wonderfully and you’re smiling like the sun lives in your heart and you’re smiling at him.

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you tease, gesturing to his leather jacket.

“George?” he repeats easily, too easily. An overwhelming flood in his chest and you arch an eyebrow, grinning still, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “And here I thought I was John.” Your smile only grows and he feels like he can’t breathe and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

As you adjust your own jacket, compliment him on his, and ask where he wants to go for breakfast, Aaron can’t help the terrible ache in his chest.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shit.

He opens the door and you walk by, the smell of shampoo invading his entire space and he reels back, blinking. His breath hitches, his entire body stiffens.

Warm vanilla spice.

Oh, shit.

a/n: so, uh, sex dreams for the win? to be decided ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dont forget to reblog if u liked loves ❤️ 

TAGS: @withyoutilltheendofthismess @thebriarpatch @joemazzello-imagines @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @sera-wonderland @pity-mee @duvetsandpillows @roses-and-grasses @stainedpomegranatelips @angelsbabey @sansonnette @xxlovingfandomsxx @rachelxwayne @kingandrear @simsvetements @emery--nicole--morrison​ @genevievedarcygranger @mooneylupinblack​ @sercyan​ @forgottenword

[thiswasinevitableid]

93. I hire your matchmaking services but all the people you set me up with are horrible and I’m demanding a refund and you’re asking me for one more chance??? what are you going to do? be my date?

Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I was inspired by @kriskukko's incredible art for the orc designs in this, and I highly recommend checking them out!

“Indrid? Some from Kepler House is here to speak with you.” Ned pokes his head into Indrid’s rooms.

“Drat” Indrid hisses, dressing gown whipping about him as he scrambles to put the apartment in order while also dragging his notes on the man in question to the forefront, “I didn’t forsee anyone coming by today, goodness, he had his first engagement with Lady Austens daughter last night, what on earth could they need to see me for?” He tosses his spare pens aside, landing them in his second set of house slippers.

“Well, dear boy, given the luck you’ve had with them lately-”

“It’s not luck, it’s simply very unlikely futures. Please just, just stall whoever it is a moment, Leo is usually patient and-”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that my friend.”

“Why not? I watched you once talk an entire flock of constables away from your door. Praytell, why can Ned “Silver Tongue” Chicane not get rid of a single attendant?”

“Because the attendant ain’t here this time.”

Indrid slams the drawer of his desk, looking up as an orc in a deep brown suit steps into the room, tossing his hat onto the table. He’s shorter than Indrid and Ned (stout and strong, according to the notes Indrid received), wavy black hair streaked with grey at the front. One eye is blue, the other brown, and both regard the harried matchmaker with casual annoyance.

“Mr. Newton, I, ah, I was not expecting you to visit me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be on a date where she found me so damn dull she hailed a cab as soon as dinner was done. I was already in town on some business for Minerva, so I decided to come tell you I ain’t in need of your services anymore.”

“I beg your pardon? Your benefactor employed me to find you a suitable match and I intend to do just that. I know there have been missteps, but such things are to be expected when searching for one’s lifelong partner.”

“Uh huh. And the fact I’m Lady Minerva’s chosen heir, which means there are a bunch of folks waitin to mimic my style and choices, has got nothin to do with it.”

“I, ah, I can’t say that I’m ignorant of the potential repercussions of being the one assigned to locate a spouse for you.”

“Which is the long way of sayin you know damn well that if I decide to stop askin you for help, no one with money is ever gonna come to you again.”

There’s a determined set to his rounded jaw, and a glimpse at the future suggests Indrid will have better luck with a different tactic

“....were they really so awful?”

“Yes. They were rude, or thought I was rude, or thought I was dull, or we just had fuck-all in common.”

“Have you considered you might just be a tad more demanding than average?”

“It ain’t demandin to want the person I spend the rest of my life with to actually like me.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cold, but unless you got a real winner up your sleeve, I’m done.”

All responses, all timelines show Duck ending his time as Indrid’s client and walking out the door.

“You could try me!”

“Really?” Duck looks deeply unconvinced.

“I will admit it’s unorthodox, but I, I foresee us having a perfectly nice time together. It will let me prove that I am capable of choosing companions for you.”

The shorter orc looks him up and down more deliberately and Indrid fights not to draw his dressing gown tighter. He will not be intimidated by some newcomer from across the sea.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I got to go to this concert tomorrow; someone from Kepler house is expected to show and Minerva is busy. You’re comin with me.” He holds Indrid’s gaze, daring him to renege on his offer.

Indrid summons his best, professional grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

---------------------------------------

Indrid smooths his waistcoat and jacket as he steps from the cab, tucks a strand of his silver hair behind his ear. It’s his only concession to the nerves skittering up and down his spine.

Gatherings such as these are nothing new to him; he goes to them to gather new information and new clients, to remind the well-to-do families of London and beyond that he is the matchmaker extraordinaire. But there is always the moment between when they see him and when they recognize him, when every face in the room wonders why someone like him dares to enter their space.

Somewhere in Indrid’s ancestry is a love story between an orc and a goblin. His silver hair, very angular features, and complete lack of tusks or fangs is the proof. The red eyes don’t help--they unsettle everyone who sees them--but his mother insists they’re evidence of other orcs gifted with rare magic on her side of the family. He wears red spectacles over them just to be safe; he rather likes how the color stands out against his skin, and his glasses let him avoid prying questions.

Duck is waiting for him under the awning outside the music hall; he’s in a grey day suit this time, looking just as understatedly handsome as he did yesterday morning. Indrid must admit his desire to save his reputation is not the only reason he agreed to this; he cannot understand why Duck is having such trouble meeting his match. He’s good looking, moneyed, American--an exotic background in the eyes of the average, sheltered upper-class orc--but still has family history here in England. All Indrid’s matches showed a high probability of success. The point of failure must lie with the orc himself.

“Afternoon, Mr. Cold.” Duck smiles with everything but his eyes.

“Indrid is fine, given the reason for our meeting.”

Duck nods. Indrid wishes the ground would swallow one of them up. When the pavement fails to oblige, he offers his arm. The shorter orc takes it, both of them doffing their hats as they step inside.

“I, uh, like the earring.” Duck indicates the moth cuff on Indrid’s left ear, a stark contrast to the single gold hoop in his own.

“Thank you. A friend gave it to me. I, ah, I rather enjoy working moths into my wardrobe; I find them fascinating.”

“Y’know, back home we got moths that look like hummingbirds.”

“Really?” Indrid’s ear twitches, “how big?”

Duck holds up his hands to indicate the size. Indrid is about to demand details when they’re waylaid by their hostess and pulled into a cluster of families. Indrid breathes deep, feeling crowded in, and notices Duck routinely being cut off in conversation or given disapproving looks behind his back. Yes, Indrid supposes his manners are a bit rough, but there’s no harm in that. Too, everyone seems far more interested in the goings on at Kepler House and with Lady Minerva than with Duck himself. By the time they’re seated, their arms feel locked together from shared tension.

The violinists are quite good; Indrid enjoys strings, his recordings of them being his favorite music to listen to while drawing. But his mind is so consumed by futures and by thoughts about the orc beside him that he struggles to focus on the music. Duck is having a similar issue, though he hides it well; were they not side by side, Indrid would miss the way he fidgets with the knee of his trousers.

“Are you alright?” He whispers under the applause.

“N-ye-uh. Fuck. I, the musics real nice but I gotta say I’m gettin kinda bored. But I got no fuckin clue if leavin will piss everyone here off.”

“Intermission is soon. When it comes, keep quiet and follow my lead.”

When the guests rise to stretch their legs and fetch refreshments, Indrid guides Duck to their hostess.

“I’m so very sorry, but I’m afraid my stomach is rather angry with me and it’s best if I go home. Duck has agreed to accompany me so I do not pass out in the street. I’m sure you understand.”

She nods, and in a matter of moments they’re out on the street, each breathing deeply.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“Guess I oughta just head back to the hotel.” Duck sighs.

“You could. But, ah, we’re not far from Kew Gardens and the weather isn’t miserably cold for once. If you’d like-”

“Hell yeah. Wait, fuck, sorry, tryin to swear less in public.”

“I don’t really mind.” Indrid starts them down the street.

“Lots of them do” Duck tips his head back towards the concert hall, “I mean, at least that rule is easier to figure out. It’s not that there aren’t weird rules and class stuff back home, but I grew up learnin them. Here I always feel like I’m one move away from makin an ass of myself. No one’ll say anything because of Minerva, but I know if it weren’t for her, none of ‘em would give me the time of day. It makes every interaction so goddamn stressful.”

Indrid twinges with sympathy, “When I first started in these circles, I wrote myself notecards and had Ned test me on them.”

Duck giggles, so absurd and loud it draws stares from passersby, “why? You seem to know your stuff.”

“I didn’t come from money, and I don’t always read social situations the way others expect. It was learn or live as a penniless artist for all my days.” As the gardens come into view he adds, “I know the basics of your life in America but if you weren’t here, what would you be doing there?”

“Workin in the Yosemite valley. I was a ranger there for a few years before Minerva called me here.”

“What was that like?”

Duck tells him as they wander the first stretches of the gardens. He’s midway through a tangent about bears when he stops.

“Holy fuck, you’re really still listenin.”

“Of course I am, this is fascinating.”

His companion smiles, “Glad you think so. But it ain’t polite for me to dominate the conversation like this. Now you gotta tell me what you do when you’re not gettin fancy folks together.”

“...You promise you will finish the story about the bear and the tent later.”

“You know it.”

Indrid knows that time passes more quickly with good company, but he’s still startled when the sun sets. The Savoy, where Duck is staying, is closer than his home, so their cab stops there first.

Duck pauses halfway out the door, “Meet me here for dinner tomorrow?”

Indrid grins, “I’d like nothing more.”

--------------------------------

“I didn’t know the line even went this far.” Indrid watches the moors race by them out the window of the train.

“You and me both.” Duck rotates his map, glances at the letter he received a week ago, “okay, once we get off at Amnesty, we need someone to take us down Greenbank road. The house is at the end of it, somewhere around here.” He taps a patch of moor miles from anything else. Indrid studies his fingers and is glad that, of his more rugged habits, one he elected to keep was letting his nails stay claws rather than filing them down.

“My visions suggest that as long as we don’t ask anyone to drive us out after dark, we should have no trouble reaching it.”

Indrid tries not to be too giddy at the prospect of spending weeks and weeks more or less alone in the countryside with Duck. They’re going because an anonymous note informed him that he did indeed have a family estate and--once they determined that the house near Dartmoor did indeed legally belong to him--it was decided he would go to see how the old place was doing and perhaps take up residence.

He asked Indrid to come without even glancing up from the telegram from the solicitor. Indrid agreed without looking away from his drawing. If two months of semi-courtship in a crowded city got them close enough for that, Indrid dares to hope that being out here together will bring them closer still.

Amnesty is small, as they both expected, the air chilly and fog threatening to swallow whole buildings as they make their way to the Lodge where they’ve been told they can find a driver. When Duck asks the young woman working the counter for help getting to Greenbank Hall, she quirks her lips in a frown.

“I’m not sure there’s even a place called that around here….OH! Do you mean Beacon House?”

“Maybe?” Duck looks at Indrid, who quickly looks at the futures.

“Yes, it seems we do.”

“Okay. Since it's still light, I should be able to find someone to get you out there. If it comes down to it, I can, like, drive you out myself.”

They end up being driven by a friendly young man named Jake, who deposits them and their bags on the steps of the massive house with a friendly wave farewell.

“Agh” Indrid shivers as they step through the newly unlocked doors, “I think it’s actually warmer outside.”

“No kiddin. Damn fog means it’s already gettin too dark to see too. I’ll go get some kind of fire started, you see if you can find some lanterns or candles so we ain’t trippin all over ourselves.”

Indrid begins his search, comes to the kitchen and finds some matches and a candle. The solicitor arranged for food and other supplies to be brought in ahead of time, so in theory lanterns should be somewhere nearby. He’s just glad that the paltry light shows no signs of rodents getting into their food.

When he gets upstairs, he discovers two things; one, all the lamps are gas, so he’s able to light them easily. And two, a mother tortoiseshell cat is nesting with her kittens on a guest bed.

“Well, that explains the lack of mice.”

Footsteps behind him, “Got a fire goin in the sittin room, if you wanna pick a room for yourself I can light one th--awwwww” Duck moves past him towards the cat, who hisses at him, “now, there ain’t any need for that, missy. I ain’t gonna hurt you or your babies. But we oughta bring you somethin more’n mice to eat.”

“I saw some tinned food in the pantry.”

“Perfect, lemme go find a bowl.”

----------------------------------

Beacon House has seen better days, but Indrid discovers the houses loss is his gain. Duck decides they can do many of the repairs themselves, and sets about ordering supplies from London or bringing them in from Amnesty. The few times they need help, the cook and several others from the Lodge come to assist in the project. These gatherings are far more pleasant than any Indrid had to attend for work (well, except for the ones where he was with Duck). And they always end before dusk.

Indrid occupies himself with figuring out why. There was no mention of this house when he first researched Duck, and even using the local name turns up very little. It’s not until he finds a diary belonging to one H. Newton in the library that he understands.

October the 15th, 1805

I fear the worst is upon me. I cannot leave the house, dare not even peer out the windows for fear of what I shall see. Lucy says it is my health, that we should travel to warmer regions so it will improve. But I know it is not so simple. Were we to flee, it would merely wait for our return. It may even waylay us before we reached town. I am cursed. We are cursed. We always will be.

Beneath the words is a hastily sketched image; yellow eyes and sharp fangs peering from between the bars of the front gate.

There are no more entries.

Indrid is unsure whether to raise the matter with Duck. On the one hand, he wishes him to know of any possible dangers. On the other, his friend is so very content these days, coming in from some project or other with grime on his skin and a smile on his face. Indrid’s own desire to stay with him here, in a house he can pretend is theirs, threatens to drown out all other reasons.

Eventually, his conscience shouts it down while he and Duck are on their evening walk.

“Oh yeah, Barclay told me about that a few days ago. Some ghost apparently wanders around the moor at night; got somethin to do with a murderous ancestor.”

“That does not alarm you.”

“You know I don’t believe in curses and destiny or anythin like that. People make up all kinds of stories when they’re alone in wild places.”

Indrid’s foresight guides his arm, gripping Duck and keeping him from moving forward.

“Does that look like a story?”

Directly ahead of them, a tor rises like a spike. Atop it, revealed by the rising moon, is a gigantic, fur-covered shape.

“See” Duck whispers, “were we back home, I’d say that was a bear.”

“And now?”

“Given there ain’t been bears in this part of the world in decades, I say we get the hell outta here.”

They take off back down the slope, the hall a collection of yellow squares of light in the darkening distance. A howl splits the air behind them and Indrid quickens his pace, keeps his eyes on the future in hopes of protecting them both.

This means he doesn’t see the burrow in the path until his ankle goes sideways in it.

“‘Drid!”

“Under no circumstances are you to try and help meAH!” He yelps as Duck swings him over his shoulder and continues his flight towards the house. As he’s bounced about, Indrid watches a glowing shape bounding closer.

“Thank fuck.” Duck crosses the gate, slams them closed, and lowers Indrid to his feet. Nothing glares at them from the path. But a growl creeps from the shadows and follows them until they shut the door.

------------------------------------------

“How’s the ankle?” Duck drops his coat on the chair opposite Indrid before tending to the fire.

“Better than yesterday. I should be up and moving tomorrow, if the futures are to be believed.”

“You know you don’t gotta rush. I’m happy to take care of you.”

Indrid picks at the ends of the blanket in his lap, “but I miss being able to aid you with work.”

“There’ll be lots of time for that. We got plenty to do to get the house to where we can live in it full time.”

“We?”

Duck goes completely still, then fails to put the fire poker back in place three separate times. When he finally meets Indrid’s eyes, he looks worried.

“‘Drid? What’s your endgame? With, uh, with me?”

“I…” Indrid grabs his teacup, intending to drink it to buy time and finds it empty, ‘I...I don’t know. I, I wanted to prove to you that I could find you a companion who made you happy, hoping you would give me another chance to locate your perfect match. But lately I, ah, I struggle to see that plan working. As I do not wish you to have any match but me.”

Duck moves across the rug, shadows on his face making it hard to read.

“I know that shows great selfishness on my part. If that is not something you wish to have in your life I, I…” he shrinks back as Duck leans down, certain this is the timeline where he accuses him of being a conniving monster.

“Funny you should say you’re bein selfish” Duck braces his arms on either side of the chair, “because I’ve been beatin myself thinkin’ I was selfish for keepin you out here so long.”

“Keep me here forever.” Indrid whispers. Duck smiles, closes the remaining space between them. His lips are still a bit chilly from working outside; Indrid does everything he can to warm them with his own.

The shorter orc straddles him and he whines so needily that Duck snickers in reply.

“What’s wrong darlin? Kissin too much for you?’

“On the contrary; it is far too little, but my injury means my ability to drag you to my bed and beg for more is greatly impeded.”

“Good thing we live alone.” Duck pulls the blanket from Indrid’s lap, nibbles his ear as the seer catches on and begins frantically undoing the buttons of Duck’s workshirt and shoving his suspenders. When at last he pushes it open he loses himself a moment, tipping forward to tongue at the golden ring in Duck’s left nipple.

“AHheh, gettin right to it. Good” Duck unbuttons his pants, “because I’ve been wantin to fuck you since before we even came out here.”

“Oh I see” Indrid purrs, “you lured me into the countryside to sully my virtue.”

Duck laughs, full throated, as his tusks catch in the firelight, “You forgettin the time we got drunk instead of goin to the opera and you told me you convinced two sailors to take you home?”

“Only if you’ve forgotten telling me about the young ranch-hand you gave several rides to” Indrid nibbles along his neck, his twitching oddly in their quest to grind against him without jostling his ankle.

“Not a chance. But I don’t care about reminiscin right now; right now, I got the best lookin fella in the world beggin for my dick.”

“I’m not begging.” Indrid tilts his head back to help Duck get his shirt open some.

“Not yet.” Duck grins, then shoves his hand down his trousers.

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid reaches for him.

“Keep your hands on the armrests until I say you can move ‘em.”

“But, but” it’s hard to argue when he’s trying to stare a hole through Duck’s remaining clothes. His partner notices and makes a show of moaning louder.

“Only good boys get to watch the show. You gonna be good for me?”

“The best.”

Duck kisses the tip of his nose, then wiggles and kicks his pants and underwear off. Indrid can only watch, growing more envious by the moment, as he fucks himself open and rubs a thumb along his cock. Indrid tries bucking his hips, only to discover Duck is keeping himself out of reach.

“Cruel creature.” Indrid groans.

“Cruel? I’m giving you a seat to the best show in town.”

“I’d rather you take the best seat in town.”

Duck laughs, is still doing so when he bends to kiss him. Indrid whimpers, nails digging into the upholstery to keep his promise of good behavior. Duck notices.

“Good boy.”

“AHHHnnnthankyou, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Indrid moans as Duck drops his weight into his lap, grinding on his clothed cock with abandon. He flings Indrids hands up to his shoulders. The seer glides them up to his hair, burying them there where he’s now certain they’ve always belonged. Duck mirrors him, lips only leaving his to bite the tip of his ear.

“Fuck, Indrid, that’s it darlin, lemme ride you like the sleek little beast you are.”

He whines, loses his thoughts as Ducks hips quicken.

“I know ‘Drid, you like bein mine, like that I’ll bounce on this fuckin perfect dick as often as you want as long as you’re my good, sweet, ohsweetfuck, fuck, darlin’” Duck drops his forehead to Indrid’s shoulder with a groan as he cums, soaking the fabric of his pants. Before Indrid can think about stopping, Duck picks up again with as much force as before, growling in his ear to be a good little social climber and cum for his lord.

Indrid cums at that with a chirping sound he thought he’d stopped making long ago, legs spasming from the force of his climax. Unfortunately, this means his pleasure is chased by a burst of pain. He whimpers, flinches, and Duck spots the problem.

“Oh, oh darlin I’m sorry” He drops to the floor, rubbing Indrid’s thighs, “thought the position would keep you from hurtin.”

“Apparently not. I, I want you to know I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Duck smiles, relieved, and rests his head on Indrid’s stomach, “Guess you did find me a match, huh?”

Indrid bends slowly, nuzzling his hair with a hum, “Yes, I believe so.”

[isnt-it-loverly]

falling for you// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood and burns

Summary: A mission goes sour and Five quite literally sweeps you off your feet.

Word count: 1300

Requested: jump, I’ll catch you

Author note: first time writing from the prompt list! I also started working on the next part of little birdie so expect that very soon! I also have a few more ideas and requests to do. Thank you so much for the support and love on my fics.

It all started out like any normal day. You and your partner, Five, were assigned a boringly average case. A businessman in 1940 whose death would somehow lead to the fall of the Third Reich. You were just a field worker, so you didn’t care how, you just knew he needed to die. So simple you don’t know why they needed two of you. However if there was one thing you and Five did well together, it was to execute orders. 

The pair of you were a well-oiled machine, you worked in tangent, and you complimented each other nicely. You were the “it couple” of the Commission- everyone wanted to be you. 

Although you were no couple, the relationship was strictly business. Sure, sometimes you shared a bed when your motel was downgraded, our you would help him through a nightmare, or he would always pay for your dinner. He was your confidant, your shoulder to sleep on, your best friend. It had taken a lot for you to reach this point. Both of you were exceedingly closed off and very VERY stubborn. Three years of forced partnership had blossomed into something beautiful. Of course, you two weren’t without fault. You still fought from time to time, every relationship had its hicks and bumps in the road. But you had grown to care for him deeply and you knew that beneath that cold, hard exterior that Five cared for you too. 

The landing was nothing but ordinary. You were in some rinky-dink alleyway in Paris, France. You straightened out your dress that The Handler forced you to wear, claiming that it would help you blend in. You linked your arm with Five’s, and he hummed in response. 

“Let’s get this asshole so I can get out of this stupid dress,” You grumbled in annoyance. 

“I think it’s a nice change of pace from the pantsuit, you look less like an assassin and more like a person,” Five replied with a genuine smile. 

That was certainly weird. Sure Five was nice to you, but with little things like putting extra sugar in his coffee so when you inevitably stole it, it would be the way you like it. Never just an outright compliment, and has he always smiled at you like that? You wrote off your thoughts and decided that maybe he was just in a good mood that morning.

You two headed towards your target's office. Since it was 1940, there was no security system so no need to be discrete. Although you had a flare for the dramatics, the plan was for you to snuff him out yourself and for Five to keep a watch outside in case things went sour. He watched as you walked in the building, a little nervous that you were going in alone but he knew that you were tough as nails. This was a simple case and he was glad to have a break. He stood next to the fire escape, watching the fourth story window like a hawk.  

You waltzed into Mr. Duponte’s office. Your dress was slightly unbuttoned and your lipstick was obnoxiously red. 

“Bonjour,” You spoke like a melody. You could tell that your appearance made him flustered. His cheeks glowed red and his eyes widened. 

“I seem to be lost,” you said, closing the door behind you, “I’m in need of some assistance.” 

“Yes madam, how may- how may I be of service?” He choked, having to clear his throat mid-sentence. 

You moved closer hips swaying as you did, God, this was going to be fun. You hand grazed his cheek, while maintaining eye contact with your other hand wrapped around his tie. You leaned in closer and as he closed his eyes you yanked his tie so his head slammed into his desk. 

“What the fuck?” He stammered.

You pulled out your revolver with a cheeky smile. 

“Don’t ask where I was hiding this, it will only make you blush harder,” You smiled. 

Before you could pull the trigger, he somehow managed to snatch the gun out of your hand, and all while landing a solid punch in the jaw. You rubbed it slightly, surprise and pain evident on your face. 

“Who are you working for? Russia? Scotland Yard?” He shouted, the gun now pointed in your face. 

Shit, you thought to yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have been so cocky. If you survived you would definitely have to hear about this from Five. You raised your hands up, knowing when you’re beat.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been pistol-whipped, but wow did it hurt. When you came too you noticed your wrist was bound to his desk. 

“Sorry sweetheart, but I can’t have you running your mouth to your superiors. Or having them find what’s in this office,” he said in a nervous tone. 

You watched in horror as he dosed the room I’m alcohol and dropped a single match. You screamed and yanked against the desk, trying desperately to get free before the flames reached you. 

Five was now definitely worried, you were taking too long. He knew you liked to mess around but it never took you this long to finish a job. He checked his watch hastily and tapped his foot. Looking up to the window he saw thick black smoke, he felt the breath being sucked right out of his lungs. You were the one constant in his life since the apocalypse and he couldn’t lose you.  

Suddenly he heard the window break, he looked to see a rather large book falling from the sky. You leaned out coughing and gasping for fresh air. The pair of you locked eyes and it felt like Five could breathe again. 

“The target got away, I’m not gonna make it out in time! See if you can catch him” You yelled hoarsely. 

“Not a chance, I’m not leaving while you’re still in there,” He yelled back. 

“Five, believe it or not, but I’m not indestructible, my adrenaline will run out. If the fire doesn’t kill me, falling from the fire escape definitely will. You have to go,” You pleaded. 

He had to think of something quick. Eyeing his surroundings, there was only one thing he could think of. 

“Jump!” 

“Are you crazy?! I just said the fall would kill me!” 

“Just jump damn it, I’ll catch you.” 

You climbed onto the ledge of the fire escape, the blood dripping from your nose and the burn on your hand was excruciating. This confirmed your theory that you would never make it down on your own. You looked at Five and he gave you a hopeful thumbs up. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath- here goes nothing. Just as you jumped Five blinked to the second tier of the fire escape and caught you as you fell past, just like he promised. You both yelled as that was an incredibly stupid plan, but at least you were both alive and out of immediate danger. 

“See, I told you I’d catch you,” He whispered in your ear while pulling you close to his chest. 

“Thank you for not killing me,” You sighed in relief. 

“I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall (Y/n), that’s what partners do,” Five told you. 

Partners. Maybe Five was starting to see you as more than just a business partner, and maybe so were you.  You’re breathing hitched at the thought. You always had each other’s backs, what made this any different. Before you could get lost any further in his words you cleared your throat. 

“Come on, we have to find that guy before the commission has our heads instead,” You said with a small wince. 

“Agreed, but then you’ll let me patch you up,” He stated. 

“Of course, partner.” 

There was definitely something new between the pair. A feeling that hadn't quite been there before.  Maybe not today, but one day soon- perhaps it would blossom into something greater. 

[agentamethystelf]

Cool as a cucumber (or not)

Peggysous week day 7: Free day

Summary/ notes: Peggy was stressed. Daniel was also stressed. Neither of them thought the other was stressed; they both thought that their partner would be as cool as a cucumber and that their own panic was irrational.

Or, Peggy and Daniel head off on their first date

The final day of Peggysous week! This is something that's been floating around in my wips for a while, so here's Peggy getting ready for her and Daniel's first date (featuring Howard being Howard (which in this fic means a sex joke I guess).

Also published here on AO3

Peggy was stressed. Daniel was also stressed. Neither of them thought the other was stressed; they both thought that their partner would be as cool as a cucumber and that their own panic was irrational. After Isodyne and zero matter, crazed starlets and newly freed Russian assassins, they both deserved a little downtime and a night out together.

"Miss Carter!"

Peggy's face broke into a wide grin as Mrs Jarvis rushed, as fast as she could after her injury, into her bedroom. "Hello Mrs Jarvis."

"Oh, it is wonderful that you've decided to stay longer!" She grasped Peggy for a brief yet strong hug, her eyes narrowing as she let go. "I sense that you are in need of a fashion advisor. Tell me what you require and I will assist you."

Peggy laughed, running a hand over the back of the armchair sat in front of her vanity. "Yes, well, I'm heading out to dinner tonight with a..."

"Mr Sousa, of course." Mrs Jarvis nodded, giggling as Peggy's face crumpled in confusion. "Oh my dear, the only people who didn't know were the two of you yourselves!"

Peggy groaned, smiling ruefully. "It couldn't possibly have been that obvious!"

"I assure you, it was. Now come with me. I have the perfect dress for you." Gesturing for her to follow, Ana led her out of the room and down the hall.

"Mrs Jarvis, where on earth are you taking me?"

Looking back at her companion, Ana smiled smugly. "First of all, my name is Ana. We are friends and so you shall use it."

"Okay, Ana, then I insist that you call me Peggy."

"It would be my pleasure. Second of all, I acquired a lovely dress sometime last year that does not really work with my figure. It has never been worn, such a shame because it is a beautiful colour, but I believe it would suit you perfectly."

"How can you be sure it will fit me?" Peggy questioned as she was led into a spare room.

"I can't," Ana shot over her shoulder as she opened a wardrobe and withdrew a garment bag. "But as you know I am quite adept with a needle and thread, so I am sure I could alter it if necessary."

With a bit of wiggling, Ana worked the dress out of the bag, before twirling it around for Peggy to see. "Of course, if you don't like it you can decline."

Peggy was already spellbound. The dress was a deep blue with a fitted bodice and cut out sections along the short sleeves. The skirt was fuller than other garments she owned, giving it a beautiful, but not too overdramatic, volume when it spun.

Ana handed it over to Peggy, who took it off her with a small smile. She went behind the privacy screen to quickly change into it. The dress fit surprisingly well, although a few areas did need altering.

Peggy emerged and Ana clapped her hands together, letting a small squeal out. "Oh, you look gorgeous! I can already imagine Mr Sousa's face when he sees you in it."

"Are you sure I can have this Ana?" Peggy asked, smoothing down a wrinkle in the fabric. "After everything you've done, I would hate to start encroaching on your wardrobe as well."

"Nonsense," Ana countered, searching for and finding a sewing kit nearby. "It is a gift! For.... saving Los Angeles and quite possibly the world."

Peggy laughed as Ana got to work, pinning and marking a few places around the bodice and where it joined the skirt. "When do you need to be ready by?"

"Daniel said he would be here between 6 and half past," Peggy answered, removing the dress when Ana motioned for her to.

"Oh, we'll have plenty of time to spare then," Ana reassured.

Nodding happily, Peggy excused herself to touch up her makeup and retrieve some accessories. She felt like she was walking on a cloud, a surprising giddiness taking over her heart. 6 o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

It didn't.

Peggy found herself pacing the living room, glancing at the clock every couple of seconds. She had donned the dress a half hour ago, along with a pair of silver earrings and a necklace to match. A pair of low heels sat waiting by the front door for her alongside a handbag for the night. Although she would never admit it to anyone else, she had spent a moment or two spinning in the dress, admiring the way it puffed out and then settled back down with a satisfying swish.

A low whistle broke her from her thoughts and she turned to see Howard leaning on the doorframe in a robe.

"Oh for heaven's sake Howard!" she cried. "I'm wondering if you even own clothes at this point."

"Hey, my house my rules Peg," Howard answered, looking her up and down. "You look real nice, by the way."

Peggy smiled genuinely, still feeling like she should continue pacing, however. " Thank you, I appreciate it."

"No problem. Sousa's gonna agree with me, I'm sure."

As if on cue, there was a hesitant knock on the front door. Peggy laughed out loud as she watched Mr Jarvis sprint past the living room to open the door.

"Mr Sousa!" she heard him say. "Lovely to see you again. I will fetch Miss Carter right away."

Mr Jarvis rounded the corner to the living room. "Mr Sousa has arrived."

"Yes I noticed," Peggy answered, still laughing a little.

"Be back by ten kid, no funny business." Howard pointed a stern finger at Peggy, putting on his best concerned father face.

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Of course dad, there's nothing to worry about."

Daniel was engaging in polite conversation with Mrs Jarvis when Peggy turned the corner into the entryway. He looked like he was about to laugh at something she said, but then his eyes landed on Peggy and he stalled completely.

"Hello Daniel," she said.

"Hey Peg." Daniel cleared his throat, gaze still glued to Peggy. "You, uh, you look beautiful."

"You don't look half bad yourself." Peggy grinned at him and Daniel was suddenly glad for the crutch to support him as his remaining leg seemed to turn to jelly.

Daniel usual Hawaiian shirt had been swapped out for a plainer one, paired with the same jacket he'd worn the day of the Isodyne explosion. His tie, however, was a far too perfect match to her dress for it to be a coincidence.

Peggy quickly glanced at Ana, who just smiled innocently.

Ana clapped her hands together, looking between the two of them. "Well, we shouldn't keep you any longer! Have a lovely night you two."

She shooed the pair out of the door and shut it firmly behind them. Peggy looked to Daniel, only to find him staring back through the window of Stark's villa.

"Did you leave something inside?" she asked.

Daniel actually blushed a little when he turned back to face her. "No, well yes, but uh-" Words failing him, he pointed back through the window to a bouquet of flowers sat next to the door, the sight warped by the frosted glass. "I brought flowers."

To her surprise, she found herself beaming back at him. "Thank you, Daniel, they look lovely. Now, unless you'd prefer to have our date on Howard's front porch, I suggest we get a move on."

They'd made it only halfway down the drive before Daniel realised something was wrong. "Peggy, I believe we have an audience."

He subtly jerked his head back towards the house, raising his eyebrows as he did. Peggy over her shoulder, finding Howard and both Mr and Mrs Jarvis watching them as they walked away. A sly smile crept onto her face as she formulated a plan.

"Well, why don't we give them something to watch?"

Daniel caught on to her plan when she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Peggy pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arms around him, and into a passionate kiss a minute later. Together, they sank into that fire for a moment, letting it consume them both.

Until the distinct sound of a window slamming open echoed from the house.

"If you guys ever need condoms you know where to find me!"

"Mr Stark!"

"I'm just offering my services Jarvis. Being a good friend, right Peg?"

Peggy just ignored him, instead slipping her arm around Daniel's. It was then that she noticed the deeper flush that coloured his cheeks once again. She leaned in to press a swift kiss to his cheek.

"Let's go, before Howard decides we need more relationship advice."

[aelaer]

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view. 

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless. 

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part IX

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: One more chapter after this. YES I KNOW I’M LATE IN POSTING AHH.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

PART IX of X

Count: 2562

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Moving into the new place is a whirlwind with you.

You let her paint all over the walls for decorations, and Wanda's never had so much fun picking a couch before.

Wanda is currently flushing red as Natasha is over, and she had caught the two of you amorously loving each other.

You had to go to work, so Wanda was left to face the embarrassment alone.

"You certainly have a lot of energy," Natasha comments, and Wanda drops her paintbrush.

"I can't help it," Wanda mumbles.

"Oh, it's fine. At least you're doing it in the name of love. Loudly, but for love."

"You could hear us?"

"We can hear you every time," Natasha deadpans.

"We?" Wanda emphasizes.

"My only advice is that you pick better times to do it if you can. Clint had to wait outside for an hour and a half last time he came over."

Wanda flushes, her ears a hot red while she tries to resume painting.

She can't help it if she wants to have you when she does.

"So, was Clint right?"

"About?" Wanda mumbles.

Natasha stares at her friend and frowns.

"That she's the top?"

Wanda slams her paintbrush down.

"No one is allowed to be friends with Clint anymore."

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You were weird on the phone today.

A little skittish in Wanda's opinion. You said you wanted to take her somewhere after work. 

She couldn't help but worry that maybe you were regretting everything, but then you showed up at home at 7 PM with flowers in your hands.

"Would you go somewhere with me? I have something to tell you."

A look of worry passed over Wanda's face, but she nodded as she grabbed her jacket.

The ride was quiet. You were tense as your hand would grip the steering wheel before relaxing, the cycle repeating.

"Where are we going?" Wanda asked. 

"I wanted to show you the person who made sure I wasn't alone," you tell her. 

Wanda is surprised because she wasn't aware that your friend was in the same town. She thought they were out of your life, as you had indicated.

But then, when you pull up into the cemetery, Wanda's heart dropped.

"Why didn't you say so?" Wanda looks at you, heartbreaking at the sad smile on your face.

"It doesn't change that people do come and go."

Wanda doesn't say anything and lets you lead her. She feels a little on the edge because she knows this cemetery too well by now, and the route is familiar.

The two of you come to a stop, and Wanda looks at the gravestone she's seen many times before. She used to spend hours every day sitting here.

You put flowers down before standing up and looking at Wanda with wet eyes.

"I have something to give you," you quietly say, your hand fishing in your bag before you pull something out and put in Wanda's hands.

Her yearbook. 

Wanda looks back at the gravestone, the words searing on her eyes.

Pietro Maximoff.

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Flashback...

You were in a bit of tizzy. You and your business partner just recently bought the space to open your own psychology clinic. 

You had just hired a marketing firm to help you with your advertising for your grand opening. He would be arriving in a couple of minutes with his advertisement plan.

"Hello?"

You shoot up from your office, putting down the boxes as you rush to the front.

"Hello!" You say breathlessly, feeling a little shame at what a mess you look like.

The guy standing there looked equally of a mess with his blond hair with dark roots in an array. He looked a little breathless, and you guessed he was running late.

The two of you stand there, looking at each other before the two of you start laughing.

"I'm Pietro, your marketing manager."

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"Pietro, the job had been done weeks ago. Why do you keep coming here?" You quirk your brow.

You and Pietro had hit it off quite well, getting to know each other as he helped you with advertising your clinic and services.

But it was professional. Except Pietro had kept coming even after everything was finished.

Monday it was coffee, Tuesday was lunch, Wednesday was dropping off a coffee and a bagel, and now it was Thursday, and he had come on his lunchtime again.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go for dinner," he smiles. 

You stand there, brow still quirked as you assessed him.

"Alright."

"Cool, how about 8 PM?"

You nod, and Pietro smiles and runs out the building again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Dinner is a pleasant affair. 

He is flirty but respectful. He holds doors and chairs open for you but doesn't make a move to grab your hand or try to get closer.

Pietro is talking about his plans to see his sister next weekend when you interrupt him.

"Do you keep coming by my office because you're interested in me?"

It's blunt, but you rather be straight forward about it.

Pietro stops his story, mouth still open before closes it sheepishly.

"No," he admits, "I actually wanted to set you up with my sister."

"Pass," you say immediately.

"What!" Pietro says. "C'mon, you guys would be a perfect match."

"Not interested in dating," you tell him as you eat your food, more relaxed that it's not a date.

Pietro groans and you laugh a bit before he starts eating again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Even after your blunt rejection, Pietro still comes by the office to pester you into getting lunch.

He lectures you that you can't skip it even if you're busy and lists all the things that could happen to you if you don't eat.

"Cancer? Really?" You say to him.

"Everything causes cancer," he tells you seriously.

"Wouldn't that mean that even eating can cause cancer?" You argue back at him.

"Exactly," he says seriously, "If we're all going to get cancer regardless, you should eat and have a full stomach at least."

You laugh, a weird familial warmth filling the pit of your stomach.

"You seriously haven't changed," you tell him.

"What do you mean?" He asks you.

You roll your eyes, but you don't expect him to remember.

"Pietro Maximoff, track and field captain, while also the student council president. The guy everyone wants to be friends with."

Pietro's mouth dropped.

"We went to the same university?" He says excitedly. "You do know my sister too then!"

"Yeah, she's really nice," you say while you look down at the ground with your hands shoved in your pocket.

"Nice?" Pietro snorts. "No one ever says that about her."

You chuckle.

"She beats up bullies, so she's automatically nice even if she seems like the equivalent to a cactus."

"So, you're saying you will go on a date with her!" Pietro says excitedly.

"Are you deaf? Nowhere in what I said says I'll go on a date with her."

"But you just said she's nice!" Pietro whines. 

"I also said she's the equivalent to a cactus."

"Wanda's really wonderful, trust me."

You merely hum.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's a little weird, you admit. Having someone like Pietro who goes out of his way to spend time with you.

People ask all the time if you're dating, but Pietro always laughs it off and says that you're like family to each other.

"I'm her big brother!" 

"You're only two months older," you would always say in response.

"God, you're like Wanda. Older is older," Pietro would joke. 

He talks about Wanda a lot. You can tell he clearly adores her. You're not sure you really understand sibling bonds because of your own brother.

But Pietro talks as if he would move mountains for her, and talks like Wanda wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for him.

"Is that piece of shit calling you again?" 

You look away from your phone screen to Pietro's scowling face. 

He knows everything about you.

He knows that your brother has been trying to get back in touch with you.

"Yeah," you sigh as you put your phone down and sit back in your chair. You have 30 minutes to relax before your next patient comes.

Your brother had seen you in an online advertisement and has been calling your workplace. You picked up the phone one, talked to him briefly before he started saying how he needed cash.

You haven't picked up the phone since.

"You should just let me pick up the phone and tell him to fuck off," Pietro glares at the offending phone.

"You have a lot of free time," you say to him in response. 

"I'm a director now, hell yeah, I have lots of time," Pietro laughs. 

The two of you banter some more when the receptionist tells you your appointment is here.

Pietro smiles at you before he walks out of the office with you following him.

Except, at the front desk, you see your brother standing there.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" You say to him.

"Miss, that's your appointment," the receptionist tells you. 

"My appointment is supposed to be with a Leon--" You groan because he used a fake name to book the appointment.

"You need to get the hell out of here, Jake," you glare at him.

"I just need 5 minutes to talk, don't you want to talk after all this time?" Jake frowns at you.

You want to make a scene, but this is your workplace, so you drag Jake into your office with Pietro right on your heels.

"No, I don't want to talk or catch up. Why would I want to catch up with someone who left me at an orphanage?" You hiss at him.

"I was 18!" Jake defends himself. "I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone you. I left you for the best."

You scoff at the response.

"And what? You want to catch up now? Or is this about the cash you said you needed."

Jake is quiet.

"I just need a loan," he says instead.

There's a scoff in the background.

The two of you look over to see Pietro there looking at Jake in disgust.

"What's your problem?" Jake glares at him. "Get out of here, this is family business."

"I am family," Pietro says in return.

"With family like me, she doesn't need your ass around here," Pietro pulls out his checkbook from the inner chest pocket of his suit jacket.

"Take this, and get the fuck out of here. If you ever come back around here without her wanting you around, I'll sue you," Pietro threatens, ripping out a cheque and shoving it into Jake's hand.

You catch the numbers as your eyes widen.

It was $10,000.

Jake's eyes are wide too, but he looks at Pietro once more before looking at you.

"Deal," Jake says and leaves.

"Fucking dick," Pietro mutters as Jake leaves the building.

"What the hell, Pietro!" You yell at him.

"Why did you give him $10,000?"

"Because jerks like that will keep coming around until they get what they want. Or until their legs are broken, but I don't know anyone who can do that for me. Yet."

You stare at him in disbelief, but he just laughs and pulls you in for a hug.

"$10,000 is nothing to make sure my little sister isn't hurt."

You denied it when Pietro asked you later if you were crying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You should show up here. At 7 PM."

You look at Pietro.

"Are you trying to set me up with your sister again?"

"No. Yes. Maybe," Pietro answers.

"Give it up, man," you shake your head at him.

He talks about Wanda all the time. You admit you're a little intrigued by her. But only because Pietro spins her in such a wonderful light, even when he tells you stories of when she's being an asshole.

"My sister is going to die alone with a cat, have some sympathy, and meet her. I guarantee you'll want to lock her down. I'm convinced she's your soulmate," Pietro determinedly keeps going.

"Why are you convinced of that?" You quirk your brow.

"Because she's prickly, you're super nice and patient, and I can't explain it anymore, just meet her!" Pietro whines.

You laugh.

"Well, I'll actually be traveling to Europe next month for a volunteer experience there for some less fortunate kids who need counseling. But, I'm not opposed to meeting her when I'm back. No guarantees, though, and on one condition."

"What's that?" He asks you excitedly.

"I want her yearbook, and when I meet her, I'll give it back," you tell him.

"Why do you want her yearbook?" He asked confusedly.

"I never got to write in it," you tell him.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"That was the last time I got to see him. He died while I was in Europe."

Wanda knows because she was in the car accident too.

She opens her yearbook and sees an added message on the back, the only other writing in it other than Pietro's.

Wanda,

You may not recognize me, but I wanted to say thank you, for all those years ago, for sticking up for me and getting my things back.

Sincerely,

The girl you saved.

There was a picture there, and Wanda flipped it over. She sees a picture of you back in university, with a familiar dirty backpack.

"When I saw you at the bridge...I just couldn't let you die. You were someone Pietro loved so much. I--"

"Did you blame me?"

Wanda saw a flash of guilt through your eyes.

"I did at first. I hated you at first. You were his family. He loved you so much, he loved me like family, and now he's gone."

Small things over the past few months pass through Wanda's head. Like how you talked as if you new Pietro, trying to get her to not blame herself.

She listened to the words, a dull ache in her chest because the truth felt like you had blamed her too, and she deserved it.

"But...Pietro was right. I met you, got to know you, and everything Pietro told me about you was right. I couldn't blame him for trying to set me up with you."

What a small word, Wanda thought. 

And you were begging.

"Please don't hate me."

But Wanda merely closed the yearbook and opened her arms so you could dive into her comfort.

Because even though you had blamed her, hated her at first, you still saved Wanda. You still stuck around, cleaned her mess up, loved her even when she was awful to you. 

You took in all her imperfections, loved her, and let her love you.

"You are my soulmate," you confess her to, lips quivering.

"Pietro always had a way of taking care of his family. I asked him at the funeral for help, and he gave me you," Wanda whispered.

Your tears stopped at Wanda's calming words. She pulled back, cupping your face as her thumb wiped your tears.

"I love you," she insists. "I'm never letting this hand go."

She holds up your hand, pressing her lips to the painted red string around your wrist.

"I was lost, but you found me. I'm never letting you go."

PART X

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 6)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2551

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon waking, you were highly confused. This wasn’t your bedroom. Where were--Oh god. Oh god. You fell asleep here. Shit. 

You slowly raised your head, hoping the headache was gone, and thankfully it was. With one eye open, you peeked around the room, looking for any sign of Hayden. At first, you found none, until your eyes spotted a note scribbled on the nightstand between the two beds. 

“Hope you slept well. I tried not to wake you as a I got ready. Hope you’re feeling better. I had to go to work, sorry for leaving. I’ll see you tonight, I hope. Have a good day.”

You instantly smiled at the note. Hayden was a really sweet friend. But you were sad he was working now. It would’ve been nice to apologize for last night and for crashing there. You didn’t have his number, but you did have a pen and pad. You quickly grabbed it and scratched out a response to his note, and left it on the nightstand. With that, you grabbed your purse, jacket, and escaped out of the room, to head home and shower.

Thankfully, you had enough time to shower, get a little bit done around the house, and then get ready for work. 

The shift was ten times easier than it was the day before and Hayden had stopped at your station around dinner time.

“Hey, you want me to order room service for when you get off?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please, I’m starving. I need food and to apologize for last night, I am so sorry I just imposed myself on you. I just showed up with no warning, crying and carrying on, and then I fall asleep in your room and--”

Hayden had started to laugh, making you stop. He held up a hand.

“What’s so funny?” you demanded, sounding upset. Here you were apologizing for being a jackass and he was laughing.

“I think you’re new to this whole friends business, Y/N. We don’t apologize when we need each other. We don’t say sorry for drunk three am phone calls, we don't say sorry for turning into a sobbing mess because our exes are asses--”

“Thanks,” you snorted.

His face softened as he looked at you. “Hey, I’m not saying you were a problem. Quite the opposite. Y/N, you’re always welcome there, okay? Always. The company is nice and I’ll always be here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Hayden, I appreciate that,” you said. “My other friends…” you said, letting the idea trail off there.

“I know,” he assured with a nod, closing his eyes. “I know you’re not used to someone being a decent friend, but that’s all changed now that you have me.” He beamed a grin at you and you couldn’t help the one that lit up your face. 

 “I’m glad to hear that,” you said.

“Well I’ll see you when you get off, hmm?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Yep, I’ll be up there as soon as I’m off.”

“Cool. See you soon.” He smiled and waved as he walked away, as he always did, going to the elevator. You couldn’t help the giant grin on your face as you watched him walk away, so thrilled to have him in your life. He really made all of your days so much better.

-----------------

After work, you practically raced up to his room, ready to eat and watch TV with him. The two of you caught up a little bit, asking about work, you asked about Briar Rose. You’d come to learn you could ask how Briar was or what she was up to, but Rachel and the whole separation was still a sore subject, so you kept it Briar-centric. 

Once you were done eating, you played some video games to blow off some more steam. But you two had gotten so caught up in laughing, playing, and egging each other on, you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you glanced at your phone. 

“Oh my god! You need to go to bed! It’s 3:08! I need to go home.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t shoot tomorrow, I can stay up later.”

“Hey, I’m off too,” you informed with a smile as you nudged his shoulder with yours. 

“Which means...rematch!” he said, hitting the button to start another match on the game you were playing.

“You’re just asking to get your ass whooped,” you teased. 

You ended up playing another hour, then the two of you crawled onto each bed, and started to watch TV, neither of you noticing how heavy your eyelids were getting until you were a few episodes into a show on Netflix. The two of you ended up slipping into a nice sleep.

------------------------

The next day, when you woke up, you realized you’d done it again, but this time, Hayden was still asleep on his bed. You figured you’d get out of his hair so you got up, and as you were about to get out of the bed, Hayden woke up.

“Where’re you going?” he asked groggily, his head still in the pillow.

“Well...I should go home,” you answered, even though you really didn’t want to leave but you wanted to be polite and let him have his space. 

“Oh,” he said as he rolled over and rubbed his face and ruffled his blonde locks, making you feel things no one should feel for a best friend. “I thought we could hang out, maybe go out and get lunch but…” 

“That sounds nice,” you said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get out of your hair?”

“I’m sure,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Don’t make me beg,” he followed up.

You laughed before plopping back down on the bed. “Alright, fine.”

“No, no, you clearly want to leave. I don’t wanna twist your arm and--”

You picked up a pillow and smacked him with it on the stomach, causing him to laugh.

“Shut up, you drama queen,” you teased.

“Alright, alright. So where do you wanna go?”

“Well actually, I need to run errands if that’s cool. Groceries and some other stuff. Would you wanna come with me?”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“You’re not worried about…” you started to ask, not wanting to offend him.

“You mean the media? Yeah, I try to stay out of their way, but I’m not going to hole up forever, I do have to go out and do things, eventually,” he reminded with a snort. 

“I just don’t...I don’t want them to print anything bad about you or whatever,” you said. “You’re a good man.”

“If it’s one thing I’ve learned,” he said, sitting up, “it’s that they’re gonna print whatever the hell I want. I could never leave my home or be out everyday, and I’m sure a story would crop up at some point that’s entirely false,” he assured, talking with his hands. 

“Sounds like a fun life,” you muttered, putting your shoes on.

“And you’re gonna have it too when you become a singer.”

You laughed. “Hardly. I doubt anyone is going to care if what my super secret lyrics mean, or where I’m vacationing to, or what gym I went to,” you noted. 

“Maybe not right now, but that first album drops, and you’d be surprised how fast they’ll pick you up,” he noted now that he was completely sat up.

“I’m not so sure I’d want that,” you noted, starting to think.

Hayden was swinging his legs out from under the covers now, getting to his feet, stretching with a yawn. “Well, you may want to figure that out before you get into the music industry.” 

You nodded. “Yeah,” you murmured. 

“I’m gonna jump in the shower, and we’ll head out, okay?”

“Alright.” 

At that, you checked your phone to make sure it was fully charged, checked for calls or texts while he grabbed clothing for the shower. Nothing from Jason, which made you feel relieved and upset. Clearly he didn’t care about the exchange that had happened, and you were just fine with that. You were ready to forget him and just move on. 

As you were still going through your phone, your eyes wandered from the screen to Hayden in the bathroom, where he pulled off his t-shirt, standing in nothing but his pajama pants, making him look...well..he looked downright irresistible. He had a great physique with muscles that were defined as he tossed his shirt on the sink counter, making your mouth go dry as you inadvertently stared at him.

His eyes came up to you in that moment, and your cheeks drained of color before they flashed bright red as your heart hammered in your chest. He gave you a fond smile before closing the door and you tore your eyes away from the door.

Jesus christ, he just caught you staring at him getting undressed. Way to go, Y/N, couldn’t be much more obvious, could you?

You tried busying yourself while he showered, hoping the feeling of being mortified would ebb away. It had completely melted away, until Hayden opened the door, looking hotter than ever in dark-ish blue jeans, and a gray sweater, the color complimenting his tone nicely. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you murmured as you got up, grabbed your purse, and the two of you made your way downstairs to your car. As soon as you started it, the radio came on to a song you hated. 

“Ugh, I can’t stand this song,” you scoffed as you changed it. 

“You don’t like that song either?” he asked.

“No, the chorus is annoying as fuck, and the beat is weird.”

“I thought it was just me,” he noted before looking out the window, and for some reason, a warm feeling washed over you. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“We need to go to Lowes, I have to get a new doorknob for the bathroom. I also need some stain, so I can redo my dining room table. Then I need some paint to touch up the baseboards.”

“Lots of housework,” he commented.

You shrugged. 

“It just needs upkeep, you know. All houses do. I just need to get it all done before it gets too far in disrepair.”

“I could help, if you needed it. I’m sure you’re more than capable, but it might be faster with two instead of one.”

“Yeah? You know how to do that?” you inquired.

“I built the house on my farm,” he informed. 

“No way,” you said, glancing at him as you smiled. “That’s really cool. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. I really enjoyed it. I love working with my hands,” he said and images flickered in your head that you tried to stop. 

“Awesome. Well, yeah, I mean, if you have time, that would be cool if you came over and helped. I’m sure I could use it.”

“Cool. Just let me know when,” he said. 

“Sure thing.”

The two of you got to the hardware store and you started grabbing what you needed, with Hayden happily by your side, pointing out things.

“I’d love to have this tool set one day,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” you asked as you pushed the cart.

He went on to explain why it had so many tools he enjoyed and would need, what he would use each one for. You revered his passion for tools and work. Jason wouldn’t be caught dead with a hammer in his hand, and that had always bothered you deep down. To you, a man was handy, able to fix at least tiny things around his own home.

Hayden would also stop and say which colors he loved at the paint section, telling you exactly which colors he would put where on his house. 

“But you built your house,” you commented. “Didn’t you pick out the paint?” 

He shrugged. “Some. Others I just want to see a change in. The deck could be a nice brown, instead of the dark gray it is now. It’s too dreary.”

“I could see that.”

“And a fresh coat in the kitchen wouldn’t hurt,” he noted. “What about you? If you could recolor your entire house, what would you do?”

“Mmm...Blue for the bedroom, light gray for the bathrooms, creme for the kitchen with royal blue accents, and then...Maybe something warmer for the living room.”

“I like it. It sounds nice,” he commented, nodding his approval of your choices.

After that, the two of you needed to go to the grocery store to restock your fridge and pantry goods.

“Ah, a home cooked meal,” he hummed. “I haven’t had one in forever,” he noted as you put two steaks in the cart.

“You want me to make us lunch instead of going out?”

He frowned and smiled at the same time. “No, that's okay. I’m not going to make you slave over a stove on your day off.”

“Who said I’d be slaving? Maybe I like cooking,” you said, giving him a playful glare.

“Okay, fair enough. I’ll leave it up to you. I’m fine either way. At your house or at a restaurant, whatever you’re good with,” he said. 

“We’ll do at home,” you noted. And with that, your grocery list went from single servings to a party of two. You went back and got more of some things or opted for a bit more hardy food since it would be two adults eating, instead of just your little personal servings. 

Meanwhile, he picked up things and made jokes, like a child. But it was utterly adorable and the two of you were laughing all over the store, being complete fools. 

By the end of the errand running, you were now home, the first time Hayden had ever been there. 

“Wow, it’s so...you,” he noted, looking all around.

You laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That your house...it reflects a lot of you, and I like that.”

A blush heated your cheeks as you finished putting things away then started on the potatoes and steaks, with Hayden jumping in immediately to help you. He made the marinade while you worked on getting the potatoes cut and seasoned, ready for the oven. 

You put on music and he immediately started humming along, making you smile at him as the two of you continued your work. Without realizing it, you started to sing along and he stopped working altogether. 

“You sound amazing,” he breathed as he watched you dance and work around the kitchen.

Freezing in place, you hadn’t realized you were singing. “Oh...well thank you,” you said. “I should hope I sound good, if I’m going to try this professionally.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll go far,” he said.

“Thanks,” you beamed.

The two of you ended up with a wonderful meal which you ate in front of the TV, binging a season of a show you both wanted to catch up on, until you needed to take him back to the hotel for him to go to bed. He thanked you for the food and a fun day before hugging you tight.

But this time, you didn’t want to let go…

~~~~~~~~~~

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[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Part 24 - Square

“These students have been misbehaving, Mr. Principal.”

Mina’s first words to you as you enter her hotel room initially leave you puzzled, but upon realizing Jeongyeon and Choa were sitting on the bed clad in schoolgirl uniforms, it all fell into place.

“Is that so, Miss…”

“Miss Vice Principal will do,” Mina says, her tone still stern, her look towards Jeongyeon and Choa one of disapproval.

“Vice Principal,” you repeat, walking up to Mina until you are standing side by side. You are relieved that you decided to wear a pair of khakis and throw on a tie, as Mina was similarly dressed up in a grey blazer and matching pencil skirt. Jeongyeon was wearing a white button up shirt and a plaid skirt, while Choa was a white and red cheerleader outfit; you made a mental note to ask her just how she managed to get a hold of one under such short notice.

“These two have been misbehaving, Mr. Principal, and must be taught a lesson,” Mina says, approaching the two sitting girls. You notice for the first time that she is holding a long stick-like item in her hand, and she uses it to graze Jeongyeon’s chin, lifting it up so the younger Korean girl is making eye contact with her.

It was almost like God decided to dump a bucket of water out of the sky.

 At least, that’s what it seemed like. The rainfall seemed heavy and unending - the word torrential was quite fitting - and had started almost immediately that morning and lasted most of the afternoon.

 The gloominess of the weather seemed to match your mood quite well. A day has passed since your little liaison with Sana and the resulting session with her and Momo back in your hotel room. Time did little to dispel the worries that Sana decided to leave you with, and while you were happy that she and Momo were at least on friendly terms again, you were unable to forget her declaration of her feelings for you and the lies she told Momo to cover them up.

 The weather kept any of you from going outside, but Momo was more than content to relax in the hotel room with room service and Netflix - by her own admission she was still recovering from the extremely pleasurable but thoroughly exhausting experience she shared with you and Sana the morning previous. And so you were alone when you decided to head out from the hotel room in search of dinner.

 “Fuck,” you say out loud as you are presented with the prospect of a dash through the torrential downpour to get to the main building of the resort and the restaurant within.

 “Fuck indeed,” a female voice says, and you turn to find Yoo Jeongyeon approaching you, a bright smile on her small face. Thankfully, in her hand is an umbrella.

 “I’m heading to the resort restaurant to have dinner with Choa,“ she continues, “and I presume you’ll need rain-free transport to the same location,” she says with a little hint of suggestiveness.

 “I’d appreciate a ride, yes,” you say suggestively with a smile, “and I’d be happy to pay in whatever way you deem fit.”

 Jeongyeon gives a little chuckle before responding, “Nine times out of ten I’d take you up on that, boss, but to be quite honest I feel like shit at the moment and I’d probably end up vomiting all over you.”

 “Well the mental image of that happening just chased away any potential boner I might have have had, so thanks.”

 Jeongyeon giggles, her eye smile managing to bring some brightness into your otherwise dreary day. Her positivity and bright demeanour was infectious, and you found yourself smiling back at her.

 “So why are you feeling like shit, exactly?”

 “Choa and I kind of got completely wasted last night,” Jeongyeon replies, staring out at the rain, “and today I’m paying the price.”

 “Well then we can be miserable over dinner together,” you reply.

 “Oh yeah? And why are you so miserable? It must really suck, doing nothing but fucking two beautiful Japanese women for twenty four hours straight. I’m surprised you can walk.”

 “How did you-”

 “My room is right down the hall,” Jeongyeon answers, “and I saw Sana leave your room when I went to grab some aspirin and gatorade this morning.”

 “Ahh,” you say, not quite sure how to explain the tricky circumstances of your relationship with Sana and Momo to Jeongyeon. You weren’t sure how much she knew about it, and didn’t want to share more than you had to.

 “You don’t have to explain anything,” Jeongyeon says quickly, “what you do with those two is your own business.”

 You notice Jeongyeon has cast her eyes downward, playing idly with the handle of her umbrella. While she is facing the rain and you can only see half of her face, you notice that her smile has left her lips.

 “Anyway,” she begins, eager to change the subject, “you should come grab dinner with Choa and I. Thankfully I have a portable rainfall deflection device handy which will ensure our journey to the restaurant is completed with a minimum of exposure to the elements.”

 Jeongyeon unfurls her umbrella with a flourish before presenting you with her left hand, trying to look a little bit like a proper lady asking for a walk.

 “Will you accompany me to dinner, dear sir?” she asks, attempting and failing to sound like some European noblewoman.

 “I shall,” you answer, mocking a bow before taking her hand. You both sprint to the main resort building under the umbrella, and for a moment, with Jeongyeon’s hand clutching yours and with a bright smile on her face, the gloom is chased from your head.

 ---

 Choa is already waiting at one of the two resort restaurants, which turned out, to your relief, to be a casual sports bar. She greets you warmly, and for a while you are happy to let the company of two cute girls distract you from your worries. Laughter and conversation came just as easily as the greasy bar food and cheap beer did.

 “So Miss Yoo here apparently has a limit of two soju bottles,” Choa says as she grabs another onion ring, “she was out like a light after the second one. Lightweight.”

 “I am not,” Jeongyeon replies as she turns to you, “what Miss Park fails to mention is that the second soju bottle was preceeded by a shit ton of beers and shots, as well as a drunken stumble downtown to find the nearest liquor store that sold soju. Also we were back in my room by the time I had the second bottle, and the bed looked mighty tempting.”

 “You should see this girl’s hotel room,” Choa says to you, “it looks like a rich fourteen year old boy set up a gaming cafe in there.”

 “Hey, I gotta keep up my ladder points. It’s a double experience weekend and I’m only a few k away from unlocking an AR I want.”

 Choa looks quizzically at the younger woman.

 “I don’t even know what the hell you just said,” she says, and the three of you share another laugh. You finish off the rest of your beer with a long sip, relishing the buzz from the liquor in your veins.

 “I’ll get the next round!” Jeongyeon says as she notices your empty glass. With a happy buzz in her step, she gathers up the pitchers and heads to the bar.

 Choa watches Jeongyeon try and mostly fail to get the attention of the overburdened bartender at the bar. She watches with a look not unlike the kind of look an older sister would give her younger sister. Ensuring the younger girl is out of earshot, Choa turns to you with a smile.

 “I think it’s cute,” she says.

 “What is?”

 “The crush she has on you.”

 “Crush? I don’t-“

 “God, you’re so dense. How does Momo put up with you?”

 “Jeongyeon? Me?”

 Choa replies with a smug smile on her lips, evidently well entertained by what was going on in front of her. She grins playfully at you and grabs another onion ring from the plate of appetizers on your table.

 “Guys!” comes the sound of Jeongyeon’s voice, “look who I found!”

 You and Choa turn to watch as Jeongyeon reappears from the bar, a pitcher of beer in one hand and her other arm looped around the arm of Miyoui Mina, who had a little bit of an embarrassed smile on her face.

 “Guys!” Jeongyeon continues, “Mina’s going to join us!”

 Mina looks a little embarrassed and the smile on her face seems a little forced, but she is graceful and polite enough to accept Jeongyeon’s invitation as she takes a seat at your table, giving you and Choa nods of greeting. Jeongyeon pours her a glass.

 “So I was saying,” Choa pipes up, “there was some interesting stuff in Jeongyeon’s hotel room.”

 Jeongyeon slaps Choa’s forearm.

 “Shut up, unnie.”

 Jeongyeon’s plea only encourages Choa, and she leans towards the younger girl before asking, “So, how long have you been back in school, Jeongyeon?”

 Mina and you share a questioning look, not quite sure what the older Korean girl was referring to. Whatever it was, it must have been embarrassing to Jeongyeon, as the younger girl’s cheeks have gone bright red.

 “Shut up!” she says again, a little more insistently this time, not that it kept Choa from continuing.

 “Jeongyeon, our friends here look a little lost, so I’ll explain - you see, our little IT specialist  here appears to be taking classes, if the schoolgirl uniform I found in her room last night was any indication.”

 “Unnie!” Jeongyeon exclaims, slapping Choa’s shoulder none too lightly. Choa laughs it off, clearly delighting in the teasing of her younger friend.

 “Schoolgirl… uniform?” Mina says quietly, her tone plain, but with an undercurrent of interest, as though she were trying to appear less intrigued than she actually was. It’s almost imperceptible and you don’t think anyone else at the table saw it, but you notice that she is biting her lip slightly, her eyes locked on Jeongyeon.

 “It’s nothing,” Jeongyeon says, her cheeks still bright red as she nervously brushes her hair behind her ear, “it’s just something I brought… just in case,” she finishes, shooting you a glance.

 “Just in case what?” Mina asks, her tone suddenly serious, her attention completely focused on the younger Korean. Choa and you both notice her change in demeanour and share a look, both of you more than a little intrigued by the Japanese girl’s sudden interest in Jeongyeon’s baggage.

 “Just in case… I dunno. Things got… interesting.”

 Jeongyeon fidgets nervously with her hands before grabbing her beer and taking a few long swigs, eager to do something, anything, to alleviate the attention on her.

 “Choa,” Mina says, turning to the older Korean girl, “do you also… have a uniform?”

 Choa looks a little taken aback by the question, but answers, “Um, no…. but I suppose I packed something that could pass as a cheerleader uniform. Close enough, I guess?”

 Mina suddenly stands, her face demure and reserved, completely at odds with the suggestive content of what she says next.

 “You two are to be in my hotel room in twenty minutes, in uniform,” she says with an air of haughtiness, as though she were some sort of school official speaking to two delinquent students.

 “And you,” she says, turning to lock eyes with you, “can report to my room in half an hour.”

 With that, the Japanese girl leaves the table. When she is a few steps away, she turns and says one last thing to the three of you.

 “Don’t be late. Tardiness will be punished.”

 Mina leaves the bar. The three of you are stunned speechless by her instructions, until Jeongyeon rises and leaves without another word. Choa gives you a look, bites her lip slyly, and leaves soon after.

 You drain what’s left of your beer, pay the bill, and leave the bar.

 —-

“These students have been misbehaving, Mr. Principal.”

 Mina’s first words to you as you enter her hotel room initially leave you puzzled, but upon realizing Jeongyeon and Choa were sitting on the bed clad in schoolgirl uniforms, it all fell into place.

 “Is that so, Miss…”

 “Miss Vice Principal will do,” Mina says, her tone still stern, her look towards Jeongyeon and Choa one of disapproval.

 “Vice Principal,” you repeat, walking up to Mina until you are standing side by side. You are relieved that you decided to wear a pair of khakis and throw on a tie, as Mina was similarly dressed up in a grey blazer and matching pencil skirt. Jeongyeon was wearing a white button up shirt and a plaid skirt, while Choa was a white and red cheerleader outfit; you made a mental note to ask her just how she managed to get a hold of one under such short notice.

 “These two have been misbehaving, Mr. Principal, and must be taught a lesson,” Mina says, approaching the two sitting girls. You notice for the first time that she is holding a long stick-like item in her hand, and she uses it to graze Jeongyeon’s chin, lifting it up so the younger Korean girl is making eye contact with her.

 You notice that the stick-like object in Mina’s hand is a riding crop. Was there a sexual fetish store somewhere on the resort premises you weren’t aware of?

 “And what should we do with them, Vice Principal?”

 “The rules are clear,” Mina continues, leaving Jeongyeon to approach Choa, the tip of the riding crop dropping towards the blonde girl’s breasts. It lingers there, pressed lightly against Choa’s upper chest, until Mina slowly lets the tip wander up her neck, until she is caressing the side of her cheek with the thin leather rod.

 “...they must be punished,” Mina finishes. Both Jeongyeon and Choa let small reactions appear on their faces - Jeongyeon bites her lip softly, while Choa lets a soft gasp escape her mouth as Mina’s riding crop grazes her left ear.

 “What punishment did you have in mind, Vice Principal?”

 Mina folds her arms, taking away the riding crop from Choa’s face in the process and eliciting a look of disappointment from the blonde. The Japanese girl brings a hand to her chin, tapping her own lip with a slim finger, evidently deep in thought.

 “We’ll start with this one,” she says, turning to face Jeongyeon. With a slim hand she reaches out and traces Jeongyeon’s jawline with a finger. Her hand drifts upward, towards the nape of Jeongyeon’s neck… before placing her hand flat on her upper chest and pushing her until she is on her back on the bed.

 “Are you ready for your punishment, Miss Yoo?” Mina asks, her riding crop now tracing a path down Jeongyeon’s long, slim body, the tip curving around her small breasts and flat stomach before reaching her plaid skirt and its short hem.

 “Yes,” Jeongyeon answers - it’s only one word, but it is filled with desire. You knew from experience that she got off on roleplaying, and the scenario she found herself in was likely arousing her to no end. So you aren’t surprised when Mina’s riding crop begins, slowly, to lift the hem of her skirt up - and Jeongyeon moans in response.

 Inch by inch, the perfect, creamy skin of the younger Korean girl’s thighs is revealed, until her skirt is almost completely bunched up around her lower belly, exposing her naked crotch.

 “No underwear… as expected,” Mina observes, “you truly are a little slut, aren’t you, Miss Yoo? You do know what happens to little sluts like you, don’t you?”

 “We… get punished, Vice Principal,” Jeongyeon answers, although the syllables that leave her mouth are more gasps than full words.

 “That’s correct. Show her what happens to girls like her, Mr. Principal,” Mina finishes, turning to you with a devilish look in her eyes and a sly smile on her lips. On the bed, Jeongyeon raises her legs and spreads her thighs, resting her feet on the edge of the mattress. The pink lips of her pussy glisten wetly - it didn’t surprise you at all that she was getting off on all this.

 You are unable to resist for even a moment, and soon you find yourself on her knees between her spread thighs - your tongue darts out, almost of its own accord, and soon Jeongyeon’s sweet nectar is filling your palette as you give her hot, slick pussy long licks from bottom to top, taking a moment to swirl the tip of your tongue around her clit each time you reach it.

 Jeongyeon lets out a sharp gasp with each lick, and she quickly becomes a hot mess as you eat her wet, hot pussy, the gasps turning into soft moans as you settle into a rhythm, licking her heat with slow, broad strokes of your tongue.  Her thighs try to close themselves around your head but you reach up with your palms and keep her legs spread, ensuring you have full access to her writhing, squirming crotch.

 For long minutes you almost forget there are two other women in the room, so engrossed are you in the sweet treat you are devouring. The steadily increasing volume of Jeongyeon’s moans are the only thing your senses register beyond the taste and feel of her pussy - and soon her wordless sounds of pleasure become actual words.

 “I… Oh! Mr. Principal… Oh… ahh! I’m… I’m gonna cum!”

 It must have only been a minute or so, but the fact that she was already nearing orgasm likely spoke to how aroused she was the by the whole situation - she loved playing a role, being treated a certain way. And it all contributed to the build up of pleasure in her slim, young body; one she was unable and unwilling to fight.

 Jeongyeon’s world explodes in white as you intensify your licks on her clit, and soon she orgasms, the pleasure wracking her body and forcing her thighs closed around your head despite your palms trying to keep her spread open. She shudders and shakes, and you feel a warm flush of her slick fluids enter your open mouth as she orgasms, the bittersweet taste of her juices slick on your tongue.

 For a few long moments you savor the feel of Jeongyeon’s quivering pussy on your tongue as she slowly comes down from her high, giving her wet flesh long, slow licks, savoring her taste on your palette. When she has finally calmed down enough you give her mound a soft, almost chaste kiss before rising from your knees, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before licking off her juices from your knuckles.

 Mina and Choa have not been idle throughout your time working on Jeongyeon, and you are surprised to find that Mina has already divested Choa of her top, and is currently fondling the young woman from behind, her slim fingers cupping her full breasts as she looks over Choa’s shoulder at you with a sly, wicked look on her perfectly sculpted features.

 Choa is a shuddering, writhing mess in Mina’s arms, her eyes half lidded with pleasure as Mina’s fingers work their magic on her body, the Japanese girl’s slim fingertips playing idly with her clearly stiff nipples. Mina raises her mouth to Choa’s ear and gives the Korean girl a lick from the bottom of her ear to the top; simultaneously, her right hand descends down towards Choa’s crotch, where she quickly lifts the hem of her cheerleader skirt before pressing her palm flat against the older girl’s crotch.

 “Mmmm!” Choa moans out loud, every ounce of her turned into jelly by the younger girl.

 “She’s drenched, Mr. Principal,” Mina says slyly from behind Choa’s shoulder, her eyes dripping with devilish intent, “we should do something about that.”

 On the bed, Jeongyeon has recovered sufficiently from her orgasm, and rises to work the belt and unzip your pants. You look down and lock eyes with her to find her absolutely drunk with lust, biting her lip as she quickly succeeds in freeing your cock from your boxers. You reach down and stroke her hair appreciatively, and she lets her head fall back submissively, enjoying the feel of your approval.

 Stepping out of your boxers and jeans, you make your way onto the bed, Jeongyeon making way for you as you lie down on your back.

 “Perhaps Miss Park can show us how much she regrets her misbehaviour,” you say.

 Choa turns to Mina for approval, and the Japanese girl nods with a wicked look on her face as she pushes the older girl forward softly with a palm on her back.

 “Go show Mr. Principal just how sorry you are for what you’ve done,” Mina says, every syllable dripping with lust - pure, erotic lust.

 Choa climbs onto the bed, her eyes half lidded with pleasure and drunk with lust. She straddles you quickly, reaching down to the hem of her cheerleader skirt before lifting it up with both hands, exposing her naked, dripping pussy. Reaching down with her right hand she grasps your rock hard shaft, giving it two quick strokes, delighting in the feel of your hard flesh in her palm. Biting her lip, she aims your tip towards her slick opening before slowly lowering herself onto you.

 You both close your eyes at the feel of Choa sinking down onto your cock, your shaft spearing into her wet, tight, walls, her body so slick around you. You had had your fair share of fucking with Choa - hard fucks, slow fucks, and everywhere inbetween - but you never tired of her body, and how utterly wet and hot she was.

 When she has fully impaled herself upon you, you open your eyes to find that she is biting one of her fingertips, her eyes still half closed in pleasure as she adjusts to the hard flesh inside her. She looked so utterly gorgeous, her slim, tight body naked except for her bunched up, pleated cheerleader skirt, sitting on your lap with her pussy stuffed with your cock - but the expression on her face was what took the cake. She was cute and adorable in day to day life, but when it came to sex she was captivating, those cute adorable features twisted deliciously by lust.

 You are both ripped from your reverie by the loud, firm smack of flesh - Mina has struck Choa’s butt with her riding crop, eliciting a yelp from the older Korean girl.

 “Well go on then, Miss Park,” Mina says firmly, “don’t just sit there.”

 Choa obeys, and she begins to ride you - slowly at first, placing her hands on your chest as she slowly takes you in and out of her body with short movements of her hips - but soon she gathers speed, and she is riding you with a firm but steady motion, your shaft spearing in and out of her wet, hot pussy.

 For long moments you are content to watch as Choa rides you, a stream of soft gasps and moans leaving her lips. Her breasts are brought together deliciously by her upper arms bracing her body against your chest, and you are unable to stop yourself from reaching up and fondling her soft mounds, teasing her stiff nipples with your thumbs. All the while she is fucking herself on your shaft, bouncing up and down, her hips grinding against you, doing all they can to take you in and out of her body as fast as they are able.

 “Oh god, Mr. Principal… you’re so big… so big inside me! Oh! Ohhh! I’ve been… so bad… Ohh!”

 You bring your hands to Choa’s thighs, and you are content for awhile to let her ride you, but her moans inspire you to become more of an active participant in this little liaison; her outfit, her submissiveness, her wet, slick heat - it all contributed to the sudden need to take control. And so you begin pumping up with your hips as Choa rides you, timing your thrusts with each of her downstrokes, thrusting your cock as deep as you could into her willing body.

 “Sluts like you need… a good fucking to set you straight, don’t you, Miss Park!?”

 “Yess!” Choa answers as she lets her head fall back, “Yes! I’ve been such a bad girl! Oh… oh god! I’m gonna cum!”

 For a few moments Choa’s body freezes, her small frame completely wracked with pleasure as an orgasm takes her by surprise - her pussy tightens exponentially around you, and for a moment you have to fight off your own orgasm. The sight of Choa’s quivering, shaking body atop your hips makes it difficult, though, as her entire frame goes taut and she succumbs fully to the pleasure coursing through her veins. Her hands seek in vain for something to grasp, something to hold on to, finally finding purchase in your own palms on her thighs. Her nails dig almost painfully into the back of your hand.

 It takes a supreme amount of effort not to join the orgasming Korean girl on your cock, and you would have been completely content with turning her onto her back and pounding away at her willing body until you came in her… but you knew there was one more thing that had to be done.

 And presently, that thing was standing at the foot of the bed.

 Mina Miyoui had watched while you ate Jeongyeon out and let Choa ride herself to orgasm on your shaft, but presently she had a look of what was surely feigned concern on her face as Jeongyeon stands behind her, twisting the Japanese girl’s arm behind her back.

 Somewhere along the way, Jeongyeon had gotten a hold of Mina’s riding crop - and presently she was pressing it against the Japanese girl’s cheek.

 “Mr. Principal,” Jeongyeon begins, a wickedness in her eyes, “it seems Miss Vice Principal here is not entirely innocent of the same crimes she charged Miss Park and I with.”

 Choa slumps her limp body off your shaft to fall to the side of the bed as you look up at Mina, squirming in Jeongyeon’s grasp.

 “Is that so, Miss Yoo?”

 “Yes,” Jeongyeon replies, letting her right hand, with the riding crop, fall towards Mina’s crotch. She lifts up her thin, tight pencil skirt before pressing her hand between Mina’s thighs; the Japanese girl tries and fails to hide the look of pleasure that flashes on her model-like features. The fact that she tried to hide her arousal only made it more attractive.

 “Hmmm,” Jeongyeon continues, raising her right hand in front of Mina and herself to reveal her glistening fingertips, “it seems Miss Vice Principal here is indeed a slut.”

 “How should we punish her?” comes the sudden question from Choa, evidently recovered enough to ask as she lies on the bed. She licks her lips in anticipation.

 You stand up from the bed, as nonchalantly as you are able. Jeongyeon takes the hint and pushes Mina onto it.

 “Miss Yoo, Miss Park… strip her.”

 Jeongyeon and Choa jump at the opportunity, their lust-addled minds giving them ample strength and determination as they strip Mina of her clothes - Choa slips her blazer jacket from her slim shoulders, while Jeongyeon quickly works the buttons and zipper on Mina’s skirt before she slides it down her long, perfect legs and off. Mina, for her part, doesn’t resist, a look of defiance on her face.

 “I refute your claims,” Mina answers, defiant, “I’m no slut.”

 Jeongyeon suddenly grasps Mina’s wrist and presses her down onto the bed. On the other side of her, Choa does the same, until both girls are holding the Japanese girl down onto the bed.

 “Mr. Principal will be the judge of that,” Jeongyeon answers, turning to you and shooting you a look of unbridled wickedness.

 The sight of Mina being held down by Jeongyeon and Choa, her perfect, model-like body squirming as she pretended to resist, was nothing short of utterly captivating. There was no malice here, no real negative intent - the four of you were merely playing roles. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the need to punish the Japanese girl, to own her, break that haughty, proud demeanor she always had.

 You step forward and Mina makes a show of keeping her legs together, forcing you to spread them apart with a palm on each full, warm thigh. Her pussy beckons invitingly, her wet flesh glistening, ready to be taken.

 You grasp your shaft, still wet and glistening with Choa’s juices, and press it against Mina’s wet flesh. You slap her pussy with your cock, delighting in the sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh, and the gasps of surprise that escape Mina’s mouth. She is making a show of it, pretending to resist Jeongyeon and Choa’s grip on her wrists, but you knew she wanted it, knew she was willing and utterly craving the fucking that she was about to receive.

 You place the head of your shaft between her wet lips and with one full, hard stroke, you enter her pussy for the first time.

 You had had her ass before, but never her pussy - your little session a few months before, when she had insisted her pussy was only for girls, had only heightened your desire to finally fuck her. And now that you were buried fully inside her, you realized the wait was completely worthwhile. She was tight, tighter than Choa but not as tight as Jeongyeon - but with a hot, warm slickness that made her body utterly sinful to be inside.

 Mina gasps loudly as you fill her pussy for the first time.

 “Ohh!.... Oh…. You… can fuck me all you want, Mr. Principal… but I’ll never… admit to being a slut.”

 “Is that so, Miss Miyoui? Your body says otherwise.”

 “I’ll… I’ll never give in.”

 “We’ll see about that.”

 You grasp her full thighs and bury yourself as deep as you can inside her body before withdrawing your shaft for the first time - then you start fucking Miyoui Mina.

 Mina had the body of a model, with long, thin limbs and a perfectly sculpted face with features like those of a princess. She had an air of grace and a demure personality to match that elevated her above the average girl into something almost royal.

 But now, with that same body being rocked with thrusts into her pussy and with that face twisted by lust and pleasure, her air of grace had fallen hard to reveal a woman who had fully given in to the allure of physical pleasure.

 Her small breasts, round and perfectly shaped, bounce enticingly with each thrust, her full thighs and long legs wrapped tightly around your hips as you piston in and out of her tightly grasping pussy. Her body was completely sublime, her tightness almost unbearable, her pussy hot and warm around you. Occasionally she would squirm in a token attempt to resist Jeongyeon and Choa’s grasp on her body, but you knew it was only for appearances, and soon those token attempts for show stopped altogether as Mina slowly, inexorably gave in to the darker desires inside her young body.

 “Oohhhh… oh! No… no…. No, I won’t…. Oh!”

 “Give… in…” you manage to hiss between thrusts, “Give in, Miss Vice Principal.”

 “Let yourself go, Miss Vice Principal!” Choa adds in as she watches the erotic show playing on in front of her, unable to resist grasping one of Mina’s bouncing breasts with her free hand. She teases the Japanese girl’s breast, grasping her stiff nipple between her index finger and thumb, just as Mina had done to her earlier.

 “Let yourself enjoy the hard cock in that tight little pussy of yours,” Jeongyeon adds, “I bet you enjoy the fucking he’s giving you. I bet you enjoy being used.”

 “No… No…. oh!”

 Mina’s resistance only turns you on further. You wanted more than just to fuck her, now - you wanted to break her, own her, use her.

 You withdraw your shaft from her body and quickly grasp her hips, turning her around. Jeongyeon and Choa take the hint and turn Mina over until she is on her belly, and on her knees atop the bed. Grasping Mina’s upturned ass, you drive yourself once more inside her, fucking her again from behind.

 “Oh!! Ohhhh…. Oh god! I… I’m… I’m so close!”

 Mina was even tighter from behind, her tight wetness grasping you, her flesh wrapping around you, unwilling to let you go. You grasp her full, round ass tightly, delighting in the sight of your drenched cock as it pistons in and out of the Japanese girl’s writhing body.

 “You can cum… if you admit you’re a slut.”

 “No! I… I’m not!”

 “Do it,” Choa hisses, bringing her face to Mina’s, her small tongue darting out to lick what was probably a bead of sweat from the Japanese girl’s cheek, “give in.”

 “Do you like that cock in your pussy?” Jeongyeon adds, “because he can fuck you whenever you want.. If you just admit it… admit you’re a slut.”

 “No… I’m so… so close…” Mina says, her voice quivering now, completely lacking the proud, proper tone she usually had, “please…. Please let me cum.”

 You draw your shaft out of her body completely, and Mina gasps. You grasp your slick shaft and tease her drenched lips with the head of your cock.

 “I’ll keep fucking you… and make you cum… if you just admit it. And if you’re a nice girl, I’ll even fill you with cum.”

 Mina’s head falls between her shoulders.

 “I’m… a slut.”

 “What was that?” Jeongyeon asks, a mock look of disapproval on her face. She was really into all this, even more so than Choa or even Mina. She loved every moment of it, loved the reversal of roles and her new position of dominance.

 “Yes! I’m a slut! I’m your little slut, Mr. Principal!” Mina says, her words full of desperation and need, “Now please… please fuck me!”

 You can’t help but grin widely. She was broken now, and she was yours.

 You press the tip of your shaft once more to Mina’s dripping opening, and with one hard thrust you bury yourself once more inside her. She was even tighter now, if such a thing were possible. The seconds pass as you fuck the mewling, quivering Japanese girl from behind, although they feel like an eternity, each thrust into her body bringing the both of you closer and closer to orgasm.

 It doesn’t take long - she was already on the verge of orgasm, and the resumption of your hard, fast thrusts into her body bring her quickly to the very edge, and with just a few more thrusts, completely over it.

 “Oh… oh god! I’m cumming! Your little slut is cumming! Ohhhh!”

 Mina casts her head back, and her body writhes in pleasure as she cums, Jeongyeon and Choa struggling to hold her down as she shakes and quivers in their grasp. Her pussy tightens exponentially around your pistoning shaft, and you grit your teeth as you fuck her right through her orgasm, your grip tightening so much around her ass you worry for a moment that you might hurt her.

 “Oh… Mina… I’m gonna cum too,” you say, calling her by her name, forgetting any trace of the role playing that the four of you had done to that point.

 “Please…” Mina says, her head fallen down onto the bed now, unable and unwilling to keep  herself upright, “please… please fill your little slut’s hot pussy with cum! Cum inside me, please!”

 With one last hard, strong thrust into Miyoui Mina’s body, you finally cum, sending streams of thick, white semen into her welcoming pussy for the first time. She pumped so utterly full of your cum that it quickly overflows out of her body around your shaft, leaking down both of your drenched crotches and onto the bedsheets below her upraised ass. You slow your thrusts as you cum, and you watch as thick white cum appears from around your slowly softening shaft as it leaves Mina’s body with a mess of semen.

 The rest of the evening is a daze, but eventually the four of you wind up in bed. Mina is curled up with Choa, and you find yourself with Jeongyeon’s head on your chest as she falls asleep. The exhaustion of the session finally catches up with you, and you allow yourself to fall willingly into the embrace of sleep.

 ---

When you wake up the next morning, Choa and Mina are gone - you assume they left somewhere overnight or earlier in the morning. Jeongyeon remains, her slim form still asleep next to yours, snoring softly, a look of utter contentment and peace on her features. You admire her beauty for a few long seconds, her newly grown out long brown hair framing her face as she continues to doze off.

 Eventually you disengage yourself from her, successfully keeping her asleep, and tossing on your khakis, you step out onto the balcony. The session with Jeongyeon, Choa and Mina was a pleasant distraction, but the worries still remained, particularly with Sana and her declaration of her feelings for you the day before.

 A few minutes pass in silence as you sit on one of the two chairs on the balcony, trying to find some solace in the newly risen sun.

 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” comes a voice - Jeongyeon is leaning on the balcony door, her tall, slim frame wrapped with a blanket. She made for a gorgeous sight, with her long hair tousled by a night of sleep, her soft, small features painted with tones of orange and yellow by the rising sun.

 “It is,” you answer, although a part of you knew you were talking more about the young Korean girl than about the sunrise.

 “You look like you have a lot on your mind, boss,” Jeongyeon says softly.

 “I have my worries, yes,” you answer with a sigh, looking back onto the sunrise.

 “Let me guess - about Sana and Momo?” Jeongyeon asks as she steps out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing. The blanket wrapped around her is thin and almost translucent in the soft sunlight, highlighting the perfect outline of her tall, slim frame.

 “Yes,” you answer after a long pause.

 Jeongyeon lets your answer linger in the air for a moment as you both watch the sun rise and the city slowly wake up.

 “Are they worth it?”

 Her question surprises you, and you find yourself just as surprised with your hesitance to answer. You should have immediately said yes, but a small part of you kept you from doing so.

 Jeongyeon doesn’t give you much more time to think, as she turns from the railing and steps towards you. She reaches down with her slim hand and grasps yours.

 “Maybe it’s time to think about what else is out there,” she says, and in that moment you are utterly captivated by her - by her perfect face, her long, chocolate hair, her slim frame - but most of all, her soft, round eyes, and the emotion within those deep brown pools.

 Jeongyeon pulls you up out of the chair and into the room, where she lets the blanket fall from her body. She pushes you onto the bed and you sit there as she falls to her knees and pulls off your khakis before pleasuring you with her lips and tongue. Once you are hard she takes you into her mouth, sucking your shaft slowly, letting you relish each movement.

 When she is satisfied that you are ready, she pushes you once more onto the bed until you are on your back, and straddling you, she takes you inside her and rides you, slowly, carefully, passionately - there is no role to be played here, no roughness or mock submissiveness - only passion, and emotion, and intimacy between two people.

 Jeongyeon is the first to cum, and you watch, enraptured, as she writhes in pleasure atop you, her moans and sighs of pleasure giving voice to the emotions that her words cannot. Grasping her body to yours you turn over so you are atop her, and soon you are thrusting in and out of her once more. When you cum inside her soon after it is with your head buried in her neck and her limbs wrapped around your body as though welcoming you into her very essence, allowing you to see who she really was at her very core, past the sarcastic and geeky exterior to the young, innocent woman she was inside, one that just wanted to love and be loved.

 You are a tangled mess now of bedsheets and sweaty limbs, your chests heaving with your recent exertion as you both lie naked atop the bed. Jeongyeon reaches a hand to your cheek and kisses you.

 You feel yourself surrender completely to her.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 54

WARNING: This chapter contains brief mentions of gore and themes that some readers may find disturbing or alarming. 

Nenani could not stop thinking about the strange boy in the tree. What did he mean that she smelled like fire? They all had been sitting around a fire the night before, so should they not all smell like fire? Why only her? Or did he mean that he could smell her magic? Did magic have a smell? And if Haiyer did have magic, as the stranger boy insisted, why had he not bloomed yet? Had her mother put a seal on him as well? No, that did not make sense at all. Their mother ran from Aidus out of fear that he would kill Haiyer for not having magic.

She suddenly had a lot of questions for Maevis once they got back to the castle. And perhaps a few for her mother as well.

They did encounter a number of other bodies as they walked, forever sleeping among the tangled roots, but they did not stop to inspect them as they had the others. Keral’s eyes studied them as they passed, but he kept a steady pace that Farris matched. The kitchen master did not even look at them, and Nenani was growing concerned that he might find them upsetting. There wasn’t much Farris could not face, and the sheer practicality of his manner made it all the more worrying to Nenani. She hated the idea of him being upset. Not mad, she was quite accustomed to that. But the idea of Farris being upset was disconcerting. His eyes seemed to dart away the moment a body came into view, his shoulders tensing up, and there was a subtle shift in his breathing. He didn’t want to see them. 

She couldn’t blame him.

 ………

It was barely an hour passed mid-day when they finally came across a road. It was made of white and grey gravel, pounded flat over years of heavy use, with neatly spaced gouges down the center marking the path of cart wheels. The road looked like a long pale scar carved into the forest, cutting through copses of trees that had stood hundreds of years before there was ever a road. Ten minutes following it and they happened upon the first gate.

Two obelisk-like pillars stood sentry on either side of the road with an ornate iron gate strung between them. The metal bars had been shaped and pounded into elaborate twists and curves. Though it was clearly meant to be a display of wealth, there was something dominating and commanding about it.

Atop each of the obelisks were marbled granite spheres with trees carved into them. Keral rearded the gate with a scrutinizing eye. 

“For a man with the reputation for being very hospitable, his garden gate sure don’t look it.”

“Doesn't matter the man’s reputation,” Farris replied. “All gates are meant to keep folks out. Be a lot more suspicious if it looked more welcoming. Besides all that, a gate means we’ve made it. So we can get on with the rest of this madness and get back to the castle.”

The gates themselves were locked tight by a severe-looking padlock, but Keral still gave it an experimental jiggle that sent the iron works screeching and moaning in protest. A few moments later, as though having rung a bell, a figure emerged from behind a bend in the road. He walked quickly, but his short stature and portly middle made his walk more of a waddle. And if the flushed complexion and puffing cheeks were any indication, he was not very pleased. His eyes looked between Farris and Keral’s faces and then to Jae and Nenani, who both were peeking out from behind the brothers’ heads. His eye narrowed and he flung his arm out to his right in a manic gesture.

“Deliveries are to be made at the red gate,” the man said, waving his arm. “How many times must we tell you bloody...”

The man paused, suddenly taking note of Keral’s coat and its color. A little of the blood in his cheeks drained away. Keral’s easy stance straightened and his muscles and tendons tightened as he assumed a more commanding presence.

“Deliveries?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “We aren’t here to deliver anythin’. We’re in need of some assistance as it happens.”

The man swallowed thickly.

“W-well, if you’re needing food, you’ll have to come back later,” the man said. “Alms are only distributed on Fridays. And His Lordship isn’t in residence just now.”

“I know he ain’t here. And we’re not looking for alms either,” Keral said. “My name is Keral Athair, Captain of His Majesty’s Rangers and I’m here to claim quarters for myself and my companions.”

The man balked, and a condescending scoff was just at his lips when his brain reminded it whom he was speaking to and he disguised it behind a cough. He readjusted his stance to match Keral’s, but his shorter stature and more rotund figure did not quite make the effect. “To claim quarters? Sir?”

“Aye. I’m sure you're familiar with the practice, ain’t ye? A man in service to His Majesty may call upon the lords of the kingdom to – ”

“Yes, yes. I am aware, sir, of what claiming quarters means. We just don’t see many rangers up this way and so it has been quite some time since we’ve had...the honor to host,” he said. “And may I ask why you’re here to grace us with your presence?”

“On business for His Majesty,” Keral replied and supplied no more.

Nenani watched the exchange with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. She had never seen anyone talk to Keral the way the sentry did. In her experience, he commanded a great deal of respect. It was a new proposition to witness anything to the contrary. And if Farris’s expression was any sort of a tell, he felt similarly. She wondered if it would be better for him to say who they and Jae were. If a captain of the Rangers did not merit an immediate invitation inside, then perhaps the king’s adopted son and the two heirs to Silvaara would. But Keral remained tight-lipped.

The sentry looked very uncomfortable and ill equipped to know what to do, and it was clearly annoying Keral, who snorted with impatience.

“So then might we be brought up to the house?” he asked shortly. “I’ll need to make use of your falconer to send the king a message. It is of some importance.”

The last part was said with an exasperated inflection. Finally the man seemed to understand well enough, and he stumbled forward to open the gate. But his expression was curiously dour. The iron gates were pushed aside with the screaming of their hinges as the man stepped to the side and waved them in.

“Follow me, if you please.”

The sullen-faced man said nothing as he led them down the long drive. There was a stark contrast between the trees inside the gated property and those outside. While winter had ravaged the foliage of color and leaves, the manicured and pruned trees of the Brennan estate looked as though it were still midsummer.

They were lush and full of leaves, and there was only a splash of autumn colors here or there. The rest were all a verdant green as though suspended in perpetual summer.

“Does he have men tie the leaves back onto the tree?” Jae whispered to Keral. The ranger’s eyes remained steady and he only grunted noncommittally.

“Lord Brennan must be mighty proud of gardeners,” Farris said to their guide. “To be able to keep color like that in this cold.”

The sentry’s head shifted as he answered. “His Lordship takes great pride in his family’s estate and heritage. Maintaining Blythe trees takes a delicate hand and firm knowledge for them to keep evergreen.”

“So it’s not their natural state fer ‘em to be green like that this time ‘a year?” Farris asked.

“Those trees were cultivated by His Lordship’s ancestor more than eight hundred years ago,” he said. “It is a symbol of his house and is believed that so long as the Blythe trees stand, so shall the house of Brennan. So yes, sir, great pains are taken to keep the trees healthy and prospering. Their coloration is a consequence of the superior care they are given.”

Nenani was surprised at just how long it took for them to reach the house. The road took them though two more locked gates before the house came into view at last. Even then, it still took the group another ten minutes to transverse the long drive and arrive at the great stone entryway of the house.

It was easily the largest house she had ever seen. It wasn’t a castle in any sense of the word, but a grand house.Tan and dark stone stacked together in a very pleasing way to make tall strong walls topped with sloping roofs. A single large dormer overlooked the property. For a house, it had many windows and did not appear to have been built with defense in mind, unlike the Vhashallan castle. A vast meadow spread out behind the manor, and she could see the mountains in the distance.

And yet, the nagging voice in her head was buzzing again, much in the same way it had when they had first ventured into the forest. But she was quick to shake the feeling away. This house belonged to Lord Brennan. Her recollection of him was that he seemed very amiable and friendly. Her mother had taken such an immediate liking to him at the dinner. But his house, much like the forest that surrounded it, did not feel welcoming at all.

But then, she had to admit, how something looked upon first meeting did not always reflect the truth of it. She had experienced such a phenomenon time and time again since coming to Vhasshal. Farris and Keral were both such examples. And they were not in any state for being overly critical. So she ignored the little nagging voice. Looking to Farris and then to Keral, she felt secure enough to know there was nothing to worry about. It was nerves, she told herself. She was merely eager to return home.

……………….

A tall, thin woman giant waited for them at the front door. The sentry rushed ahead of them to whisper something in her ear, and she had to bend herself over for him to reach. Her expression did not change, and she merely nodded.

“I shall take it from here, then,” she said to him. “Please return to your post.”

In stark contrast to the sentry, the housekeeper was calm and composed, as though she had been expecting them all along. She was dressed all in a mottled black and dark green fabric and wore her large, hawkish nose proudly. Her small brown eyes stared down along its length. It was almost comical the way she held her head so far back, as though she were going to sneeze at any moment and wanted to be prepared.

“I do apologize, my lords,” she said. “But His Lordship is away at court on His Majesty’s invitation. But the hospitality of this house is at your disposal. I am afraid, though, you have caught us in a bit of an awkward time, however. Most of the rooms are under renovation and are not decent enough for occupation just yet. I have a few small rooms upstairs we put you up in.”

Keral did not meet the woman’s eye but instead gazed around at the house behind her. “We don’t need nothing fancy. A single room will do for all of us. And I’ll be needing to speak with your falconer as soon as possible.”

She dipped into a polite curtsy. “I shall send for him immediately. We also have accommodations more appropriate for the humans, sir, if you wish.”

Keral shook his head. “No. They’re stayin’ with us, ma’am, thanks all the same.”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly. “Of course, sir. I only meant that...”

“They stay with us. We don’t plan on intruding for very long and they’re tired from the journey. If you could show us to a room, we’ll sort it all out ourselves.”

The woman dipped again and made a vague gesture to follow her.

Through the main entry, they spilled out into the atrium. The floors were a dark-colored wood, polished to a high sheen, as were the walls. Marble pillars drew the eye to the ornate wooden ceiling and the carved stone statuettes at the corners, like little stone spies. Tapestries were hung along each wall leading to the main staircase. It too was made of the same dark wood. However, the housekeeper led them down a smaller corridor off to the side, a servant’s entrance, and they followed her to a much more humble set of narrow stairs that led them to a modest guest room. There were three beds lined up along a wall close to the only window. There was a small table on one end of the room and a simple fireplace at the other.

“I shall send the maid up to light the fire for you gentlemen,” she said. Farris went to one of the beds and helped Nenani down from his pack before slinging it from his shoulders. Keral did the same with Jae but did not pulled Haiyer from his pocket. “Shall I send up some supper for you as well, my lord?”

“You’re most kind, ma’am,” Keral replied. “If it’s not too much trouble, could ye have some brought up fer the humans as well?”

She gave the smallest of smiles and inclined her head. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Miss Embrews, if you should need anything else. Once the falconer has arrived I shall send a footman to inform you.”

“I would appreciate it,” he replied. And with that, Miss Embrews turned and shut the door behind her. Her footsteps faded away and only then did Keral’s stance relax. He turned to his brother. “That was odd.”

Farris snorted. “That sentry was a prickly lil’ bastard.”

“He was,” Jae agreed, bouncing experimentally on the bed before flopping back. “Why did you tell them who we were? Wouldn’t that have...I dunno, put more of a fire under their arse?”

Keral’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in all the details. “Hm. Eh, might have. But I have a funny feeling. Better play it safe and not say anythin’. Fer now.”

Nenani’s ear tingled. Keral’s senses and intuitions were sharp and well honed. If he was picking up on something just as she was, perhaps he was right and they needed to proceed carefully. Lord Brennan may be genial and kind, but that was no guarantee that his servants were anything of the sort.

“It feels weird here,” Nenani admitted. “The forest felt that way too. Like...something saying we shouldn’t be here.”

Farris nodded. “Aye. Have to agree with ye two. Somethin’s off. Don’t smell right.”

Keral had been walking the room, assessing it and poking at the walls experimentally. He kicked one of the bed’s legs and upon Farris’s comment, he spun on his heels to face his brother, eyes alight with inspiration. “Ye know what it reminds me of, Farris? When Mum would get worked up over something and she’d spend two days washing and polishing everything in the house until it sparkled.”

Farris’s eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell, yer right. Even smells like it.”

“Everything’s too clean,” Keral said. He looked around the room again with new eyes. “Even the castle ain’t this clean.”

“If there’s no one living here,” Jae said, pushing himself onto his elbows. “Doesn’t it make sense that it’d be clean?”

“Might be. But ye remember when Warren had the Queen’s apartments renovated before the weddin’?” Keral asked. “All the hullabaloo and all?”

Jae nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Ye remember how filthy the place was all the while? With all the supplies and dirt being tracked everywhere from the workers?”

Jae’s lazy expression widened with clarity. “Yeah. I do remember that.”

Keral nodded. “Aye. She says they’re renovatin’ most ‘a the rooms? Where’s the evidence of it? Where’s the supplies? Where are the workers? The dirt?”

Farris made a displeased rumble. “We need to send that message out quick and get outta here.”

Keral nodded and reached into his pocket to fish Haiyer out and set him down next to Jae. The little boy sprang up to his feet and spent several moments happily celebrating his freedom by frog hopping in circles around the other boy.

“I’ll send the message and we can rest here for the night. Just gotta keep our eyes open fer anythin’ off. And we’ll move on tomorrow with some supplies and maybe a cart. Whatever they’re doin’ up this way, I’ll need more than a funny feeling to inspect further. My position gives me a lot of freedom to dig around, but I’ll need more that to do much of anything. Right now at least.”

“He was really nice at the dinner,” Nenani said. “Mama really seemed to like him.”

“No surprise,” Farris said. “He has a good reputation at court. The king likes him.”

“Haven’t ever spoken with him myself,” Keral said. “But he always seemed a friendly enough man. Not one to show off or bring attention to his person. An odd trait in a courtier.”

Jae snorted. “You mean like Colem does?”

“No one does it like Colem,” Keral laughed. “But say what you want of the man. Personally, I find him to be quite amusing.”

Jae glared up at the ranger. “You only say that because you know how much he annoys me.”

Keral grinned but did not deny the accusation. “Believe it or not, there’s a lot more to that loony bastard than ye might think.”

Jae looked as though he wanted to reply, but they were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Farris, who had sat down on the bed, reached out to coax Nenani closer to him. Keral motioned for Jae and Haiyer to remain where they were and then turned towards the door. He cracked it open and asked, “Yes?”

“I’m here to build the fire, milord,” said a young and high pitched voice. Keral pulled the door open to reveal a young maid with thin mousy brown hair tucked up under a simple cap. She, like the housekeeper, was very thin, with a hawkish nose. It was painfully obvious there were shared relations. She hurried inside, awkwardly carrying a load of firewood and some flint. “It won’t be but a moment, milords.”

She made quick work of setting the logs inside, but as she worked with the flint, striking it repeatedly to bring up a spark, her eyes darted to the side every so often. Jae, who sat on the bed nearest to her, watched and did not miss the quick glances his way or the pursed lips. Looking to Keral, he shared a bemused look. The ranger only gave a small nod and Jae got up from his spot, taking Haiyer’s hand, and they moved further up the bed and closer to Farris.

The maid rose to her feet as the fire began to burn properly and she gave a small bow. “The footman should be here shortly with your food, milords.”

Keral nodded. “Thank you.”

As the girl departed, a tall middle-aged man crested the stairs carrying a tray. The maid stepped gingerly aside as he moved into the room, and she gave him an amused grin before dashing off back down the narrow stairs. The same smile graced the footman’s face, but dropped the moment the maid was out of sight and he turned to the room. He sat the tray upon the table and turned to Keral.

“Will there be anything else, milord?”

“No, this will do fine. Any news of the falconer?”

“He lives in a cottage away from the house, sir. But Miss Embrews has sent for him. Shouldn’t be much longer, sir.”

Though displeased, Keral nodded. “Good.”

“If it pleases milord, I could take whatever message you may have and meet him halfway with it.”

“No, I will wait for him. Thanks all the same.”

The footman looked disappointed but gave a short nod and quitted the room. The food he had brought consisted of an iron pot and two bowls with a loaf of bread. Farris went over to it, taking the bread in his hands and scrutinizing it.

“Their ovens run too hot. Bottom’s burned,” he said as he dropped it back onto the tray. “I’d kick Quin in the arse fer tryin’ to serve that t’ anyone.”

“Not every baker can be as amazing as yers, Farris,” Keral replied, looking at it for himself. “Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“Say the man who eats dirt,” Farris quipped back. He pulled the lid off the pot. Inside was a cream colored soup with various vegetables and hunks of pale meat. “Looks under seasoned.”

Keral rolled his eyes.

“Gods forgive anyone who under-seasons food around you,” Keral grunted. “Just ladle it out and complain later.”

Farris merely grunted and took up one of the bowls to ladle in the soup. As he filled the first bowl and went to grab the second, a sudden flash of gold light filled the room, startling the lot of them.

“Wait!” cried a familiar voice. An orb of transparent gold hovered over Keral’s head, making quick circles around him. Startled, Keral shied away from it but frowned when recognition hit him.

“Ellis!” Haiyer cried out in delight, getting to his feet and rushing to the end of the bed. “You came back!”

Annoyed, Keral resisted the urge to swat at the fairy. “Oh, back already are we? Where’s that mage ‘a yer’s lass? Don’t suppose he’ll be turnin’ himself in, eh?”

Her voice was frantic and quick and no one could make out what she was saying. She flew away to fly laps around Farris’s head.

“Gods piss on it, girl!” Farris barked. “We can’t understand a word. Slow down.”

The fairy’s golden light took on a red hue as though manifesting her frustration. She flew to the soup pot and slammed the lid back onto the pot and stood on top of it.

“Don’t eat the soup!” she said, breathless.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Keral asked, the annoyance turning to anger.

“Poisoned?” Farris asked, his expression matching his brother’s.

“No!” she said. “People! There are people in it!”

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